


SuperPotterLock- The Prisoner of Azkaban

by Nurmengardx



Series: SuperPotterLock [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Mentioned Harriet Watson, Mentioned Mycroft Holmes, Multiple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7885825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nurmengardx/pseuds/Nurmengardx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Weasley put down his paper and emblazoned on the front was a picture of a man with wild, matted hair and sunken, sallow skin.<br/>‘Who is that man?’ Castiel asked.<br/>‘Sirius Black,’ Mr Weasley said grimly.<br/>‘The Sirius Black?’ Castiel said, eyes wide. He leaned closer to the paper. ‘He’s escaped?’<br/>‘Yes,’ said Mr Weasley, looking extremely grave. ‘They’ve pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him. No sign of him so far.’<br/>‘Would we get a reward if we caught him?’ asked Ron. ‘It’d be good to get some more money…’<br/>‘Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,’ Mr Weasley said, looking very strained. ‘Black’s not going to be caught by a thirteen year-old wizard. It’s the Azkaban guards that’ll get him back, you mark my words.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Leaky Cauldron

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back everyone. If you're new here, I would just like to mention that I have written both Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets, if you'd prefer to give them a read before getting stuck in to this one.

The Leaky Cauldron

Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron yawning. It had been a long day of homework and shopping for school supplies and he’d decided to make his way back to his room. His foot touched the bottom of the staircase leading up to the rooms and he heard a familiar loud bang outside. Ever since he had used the Knight Bus to run away from the Dursleys, he couldn’t help but listen for the sound it made as it came to a stop. Harry noticed that a lot of wizards used the magical bus and he often heard it several times a day. There was almost always someone interesting to look at coming off the bus, so Harry turned to look and gasped as he saw a boy in a tan trench coat come in through the door. Castiel’s shoulders were hunched over and he kept his head down as he checked in.

‘Castiel?’ Harry said as he approached the stairs

He looked up and Harry gaped at him. There was blood crusted and smeared around his nose, purple bruises mosaicked over his cheeks and ringed his eyes, one of which was swollen shut. Castiel saw Harry’s expression and looked away awkwardly.

‘What happened to you?’ Harry said, appalled.

Castiel rubbed his arm and looked around the room.

‘I – I would rather discuss it upstairs, if you don’t mind.’ He said quietly.

‘Yeah, of course.’

Castiel lead the way and Harry noticed that he had grown quite a lot over the summer. His coat no longer dragged on the ground at all and neither did he have to roll the sleeves up as much. They walked past Harry’s room and Castiel unlocked a room at the end of the corridor. He sat heavily down on the bed and Harry pulled up a chair and sat in front of him, waiting for him to speak.

‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ he started off.

‘It looks pretty bad, though,’ said Harry.

Castiel shrugged.

‘Some older boys in my village attacked me. They were Muggles so I couldn’t defend myself with magic. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m not very physically imposing, so I could only let them do it.’

‘That’s horrible!’ said Harry.

‘Gabriel pulled them off and sent me here. He’s coming with my things later.’

Castiel’s lip trembled and he pulled some tissues out of his pocket.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked Harry while attempting to wipe some of the blood off his face.

‘I, erm, accidentally blew up my aunt and she sort of – floated away. I thought I was in a lot of trouble, so I ran away and the Knight Bus brought me here. Fudge says I’m not in trouble, though, since it was accidental magic.’

Castiel’s uninjured eye widened.

‘These things always happen to you, don’t they, Harry?’

‘Yeah. Unfortunately.’

Castiel sighed.

‘Harry, I’m in a lot of pain and I’m very tired. If you wouldn’t mind…’

‘Oh, yeah, of course. My room is right down the hallway if you need anything and maybe we could go shopping for your school stuff together,’ Harry said, putting the chair away.

‘That would be nice,’ Castiel said weakly. ‘Goodnight, Harry.’

‘’Night.’

Harry closed the door quietly and walked down the corridor to his own room. Gabriel came around the corner with a heavy trunk, a large cage containing Grace, the black barn owl, and a split lip. He gave Harry a brief, questioning look and carried on to Castiel’s room.

 

It was the last day of the holidays and Harry met Castiel just inside Diagon Alley. He must have had some supplies from Madam Pomfrey in his trunk, as his bruises already looked much better and his eye was no longer swollen shut, though it was still puffy and bloodshot.

‘Let’s go,’ said Castiel. ‘I would like to get my books first.’

They walked in comfortable silence down to Flourish and Blotts, where the assistant piled all of the core books into Castiel’s arms. She whimpered when he asked for a copy of the _Monster Book of Monsters_ and went to the cage they were kept in. She broke up a couple of the snapping books that were ripping in to each other and dragged another one out. She tied it up, handed it to Harry and stomped away to get the rest of Castiel’s books. The monster book squirmed in Harry’s arms while Castiel put his other books into his bag. He then took the monster book, stroked it down the spine until it calmed down and then put it with the rest.

‘How did you do that?’ Harry asked.

‘We used to have one at my house. If you didn’t know how to calm it, it would eat your shoes.’

‘What happened to it?’

‘It escaped. It’s probably roaming around the mountain somewhere.’

‘Oh.’

The assistant the returned with Castiel’s books for Ancient Runes, which he stuffed into his bag as well. He paid her for them and they walked back out into the sunshine.

‘Where next?’ Harry asked.

‘I need to get Grace some food.’

‘So, Magical Menagerie?’

Castiel nodded and they entered the dark, noisy building where they were met with a shock of orange hair.

‘Ron!’ Harry exclaimed.

‘Harry!’

Ron whirled around to face them. ‘Whoa,’ he said, spotting Castiel’s face.

‘Hermione, it’s Harry and Castiel!’

Hermione appeared from the depths of the shop with a bulging bag and an ugly orange cat on her shoulder.

‘I thought you were getting an owl,’ Ron said, frowning at the cat’s squashed features.

‘I just can’t leave him,’ Hermione crowed.

Suddenly, the cat spotted Ron’s rat, Scabbers, who was being examined by the witch behind the counter. He pushed himself off of Hermione and dove after Scabbers, chasing him out of the shop.

‘CROOKSHANKS, NO!’ the witch shouted, grabbing hold of him.

Harry and Ron darted off to find Scabbers, while Hermione paid for Crookshanks and Castiel bought some bird seed and Owl Treats.

‘Please tell me you didn’t actually buy that _monster?’_ Ron said, aghast as Hermione left the shop with Crookshanks in her arms.

‘You forgot your Rat Tonic,’ Hermione said, ignoring him and handing him a small, red bottle.

‘Scabbers needs rest and relaxation! How’s he going to get it with that thing around?’ said Ron, clutching Scabbers close to his chest.

‘Stop worrying, Ron. Crookshanks will be in my dormitory and Scabbers will be in yours. What’s the problem? Poor Crookshanks. That witch said he’d been in there ages. No one wanted him,’ Hermione said, rubbing her cheek against the cat’s wiry orange fur.

‘I wonder why,’ Ron muttered sarcastically.

Together they all walked over to Florean Fortescue’s and sat at a table, slurping some ice creams.

‘What’s wrong with Scabbers, Ron?’ Castiel asked.

‘He’s not been right since we went to Egypt, really. He’s not been eating, or sleeping, or anything,’ Ron told him.

‘That doesn’t sound very good.’

‘Well, he’s been around a while. He’s tough, but he is old.’

Castiel nodded.

‘Harry, did you really blow up your aunt?’ Hermione asked anxiously.

‘It was an accident,’ said Harry, embarrassed.

‘Wicked,’ Ron grinned.

‘It’s not funny, Ron,’ Hermione frowned. ‘He’s lucky he wasn’t expelled.’

‘I think I was lucky not to get arrested, actually.’

‘Nah, they’d never arrest you,’ Ron said, taking a huge bite of his cone.

‘Why not?’ said Harry.

‘’Cause you’re Harry Potter. Imagine how much backlash they’d get for arresting the famous Harry Potter. Especially for something as stupid as inflating his aunt,’ Ron explained, popping the very tip of his cone into his mouth. ‘Besides, it was an accident. No big deal.’

‘It was still very dangerous, running away like that,’ said Hermione.

‘Leave off, will you? No one was hurt,’ Ron complained.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

‘Has anyone heard from John or Sherlock?’ Harry asked, quickly changing the subject.

‘I phoned John to invite him to come with us, but he said that he’s already bought everything he needs, so we’ll probably see him on the train tomorrow,’ said Hermione.

‘You ‘phoned’ him? Like on the telephone?’ asked Ron.

‘Yes, that’s it,’ Hermione smiled.

‘I’ll tell Dad later,’ Ron grinned. ‘Nothing from Sherlock yet. I sent Errol over to him but, surprise, surprise, I got nothing back. Looks like we’ll just have to wait for tomorrow.’

Ron dusted the crumbs off his hands and stood up.

‘So, what happened to you?’ Ron asked Castiel.

‘An unfortunate encounter with some particularly unpleasant Muggles.’

Ron waited, but Castiel did not elaborate further.

They all then set off back toward the Leaky Cauldron, where they found Mr Weasley sat at the bar, reading the _Daily Prophet._

‘Harry!’ he said, smiling as he looked up. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine, thanks,’ said Harry.

‘And Cas- goodness, are you all right?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Castiel said.

Mr Weasley put down his paper and emblazoned on the front was a picture of a man with wild, matted hair and sunken, sallow skin.

‘Who is that man?’ Castiel asked.

‘Sirius Black,’ Mr Weasley said grimly.

‘ _The_ Sirius Black?’ Castiel said, eyes wide. He leaned closer to the paper. ‘He’s escaped?’

‘Yes,’ said Mr Weasley, looking extremely grave. ‘They’ve pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him. No sign of him so far.’

‘Would we get a reward if we caught him?’ asked Ron. ‘It’d be good to get some more money…’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,’ Mr Weasley said, looking very strained. ‘Black’s not going to be caught by a thirteen year-old wizard. It’s the Azkaban guards that’ll get him back, you mark my words.’

Just then, Mrs Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping and accompanied by Fred, George, Percy and Ginny.

Percy walked right up to Harry and Castiel and shook each of their hands.

‘Harry. Castiel. How nice to see you,’ he said solemnly.

‘Hello, Percy,’ Castiel said brightly.

‘I hope you’re both well?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Harry!’ said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. ‘Simply _splendid_ to see you, old boy.’

‘ _Marvellous,’_ said George, seizing Castiel’s hand and shaking it vigorously. ‘Absolutely spiffing.’

Percy scowled.

‘That’s enough, now,’ said Mrs Weasley.

‘Mum!’ said Fred, as though he’d only just spotted her, and seized her hand too. ‘How really corking to see you-‘

‘I said, that’s enough,’ said Mrs Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. ‘Hello, you two. I suppose you’ve heard our good news?’ She pointed at the brand-new silver badge on Percy’s chest. ‘Second Head Boy in the family!’

‘Congratulations, Percy,’ Castiel smiled.

‘Thank you, Castiel,’ Percy said, mildly surprised.

‘My brother was Head Boy once. I heard that he was very good at it.’

‘Oh, yes, Michael was very good, indeed. Do you speak to him much? Perhaps he could give me some tips.’

‘I haven’t heard from him in a while,’ Castiel said mildly. ‘He’s very busy working for the Magical Congress.’

‘Of course. Of course. Did you ever think about going for Head Boy?’

‘Not really,’ Castiel said. ‘I’m not the right person for it. I’m not like you, or Michael, or Gabriel.’

‘Nonsense, Castiel, you’d make a fine Head Boy. Though, I’m not sure Gabriel has the right attitude for it.’

‘He’s a lot better than you think, Percy. He likes to see the good things in life and he encourages creativity, but he can be serious if he needs to be.’

‘I’m just worried that he won’t listen to me. As Head Boy, the Prefects are crucial to my ability to keep charge of the student body.’

‘Don’t be. He has his own ideas on how to run things, but if it’s important, he’ll take instruction from you, no questions asked.’

Percy smiled.

‘Thank you, Castiel. I shall keep that in mind.’

Castiel smiled back.

 

That night, Castiel joined Harry, Hermione and all seven of the Weasleys for dinner in the bar. Tom the innkeeper pushed together three tables for them and they were served a delicious five course meal.

‘No Gabriel?’ Mrs Weasley asked.

‘No, he’s packing his things. I expect he’ll come down for something later.’

Towards the end of the meal, Mrs Weasley asked everyone of they were packed.

‘Ron isn’t,’ Percy scowled. ‘He’s just dumped all of his stuff on my bed.’

‘You’d better go pack properly, Ron,’ Mrs Weasley called down the table. ‘You won’t have time to do it in the morning.’

Dinner made them all very sleepy, so they all trouped upstairs to finish packing and get ready for bed. On his way past their room, Harry heard Percy and Ron having a shouting match. He went inside to see what was going on.

‘It was _here_ on the bedside table. I took it off for polishing…’ Percy was shouting.

‘I haven’t touched it, all right?’ Ron roared back.

‘My Head Boy badge has gone,’ said Percy, rounding on Harry.

‘So’s Scabbers’s Rat Tonic,’ said Ron, throwing things out of his trunk. ‘I think I might’ve left it in the bar-‘

‘You’re not going anywhere till you’ve found my badge!’ yelled Percy.

Suddenly the door banged open and Gabriel came in looking thunderous.

‘Can you both shut up!’ he said angrily. ‘We can hear you all the way down the corridor!’

‘But-‘

‘I don’t care, Percy. Fred and George have your badge, but nothing gives you the right to disturb everyone else. It’s late and people are trying to sleep. I would have thought that our Head Boy would have some more common sense and consideration,’ he spat venomously before storming out again, leaving an astonished silence in his wake. No one had ever seen him like that before and they saw the same shocked expressions echoed on Fred and George’s faces, who were stood outside. Percy snatched his badge from Fred’s hand, though he didn’t notice that they’d charmed it to say ‘Bighead Boy’.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron, whose mouth was hanging open.

‘Er, I’ll go and get your Rat Tonic,’ Harry said, breaking the silence. ‘You should pack.’

‘Yeah… yeah, all right. Thanks,’ Ron said. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll get an apology.’

Percy huffed and turned his back, and Harry left to find the Rat Tonic.


	2. The Dementor

The Dementor

The next morning was a flurry of activity as everyone heaved their trunks down the narrow stairs of the Leaky Cauldron. They piled them up by the front door with Hedwig, Hermes – Percy’s screech owl – and Grace perched on top in their cages. Mr Weasley had invited Castiel and Gabriel to share the cars with them and a grateful Gabriel accepted, having previously had no idea how he would get himself and Castiel to King’s Cross. A small wickerwork basket stood next to the trunks with Crookshanks inside, spitting and hissing, and Hermione crouched down trying to reassure him.

Finally, the Ministry cars arrived and they all piled in, shoving their trunks in the boot of the cars. The journey to King’s Cross went smoothly, the cars sliding into gaps in the traffic with ease. They arrived with twenty minutes to spare and the drivers found some trolleys for them before tipping their hats to Mr Weasley and driving off.

‘Right, Harry and I will go first,’ Mr Weasley said, and the two of them disappeared through the barrier. Ginny and Percy followed suit, as did the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione. Then it was Castiel and Gabriel’s turn. They went towards it at a slight run and slipped through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where the Hogwarts Express was waiting, billowing steam. Almost immediately, they bumped into John, who was wandering around looking concerned.

‘Hey, Castiel. Hey, Gabriel,’ he said distractedly.

‘Are you all right, John?’ Castiel asked, dragging his trunk over to the last carriage of the train, where the Weasleys were all loading theirs.

‘I’ll see you later,’ said Gabriel, heading off to the opposite end of the train.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Have you seen Sherlock?’ said John, searching the platform.

‘Not yet,’ said Castiel.

‘He’ll miss the train if he doesn’t get here soon,’ John said anxiously.

‘Will I really?’

Sherlock appeared behind them, making John jump.

‘Bloody hell, Sherlock!’ he exclaimed indignantly.

Sherlock had grown even taller than Ron and he’d finally had his messy curls chopped into an acceptable style.  John could now see the shape of his cheekbones and even his clear eyes. John was also surprised to see Sherlock wearing a plain polo shirt and jeans. He could have easily blended with Muggles.

‘What?’ Sherlock said, fidgeting self-consciously.

John realised he had been staring and cleared his throat.

‘Nothing, just, erm, nice haircut,’ he said.

‘Oh. Thank you.’

‘Shall we go?’

They loaded on their bags and Ron shoved them out of the way to look out of the door.

‘Harry, come on!’ he shouted.

They looked outside and saw Harry still on the platform, talking to Mr Weasley.

‘Arthur!’ Mrs Weasley shouted urgently.

The train began to move and Harry sprinted away from Mr Weasley and across the platform. Ron reached out an arm, Harry grabbed hold of it and they pulled him in just in time. Once he was safely inside with the door shut, they dragged their trunk down the train to try and find an empty compartment. Most of them were already full, but right at the end of the train was a compartment with only one occupant. A man was sitting fast asleep by the window wearing an extremely shabby set of robes. He seemed to be quite young, though his light-brown hair was flecked with grey, and he looked ill and exhausted. They all hesitated outside, having never seen an adult on the train other than the food trolley witch. John sighed and entered first, sitting himself down carefully in the seat next to the man so that no one else would have to.

‘Who d’you reckon he is?’ Ron hissed as the rest of them sat down.

‘Professor R. J. Lupin,’ whispered Hermione at once.

‘How d’you know that?’

‘It’s on his case,’ replied Hermione, pointing at the battered old case stored in the luggage rack over his head.

‘Wonder what he teaches?’ said Ron.

‘Honestly, Ron, you’d think there was nothing under that red mop of yours,’ Sherlock snorted.

‘Have you just been saving it up, or something?’ Ron scowled.

‘Wouldn’t have to if you used your brain.’

‘Can you two stop? It’s barely been ten minutes!’ John said exasperatedly. ‘He’s teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ron. It’s the only vacancy.’

‘Oh. Right.’

Sherlock gave John a probing look, but John shook his head and rubbed one of his temples

‘Well, I hope he’s up to it. He looks like a good hex could finish him off,’ Ron said doubtfully.

‘Castiel, what do you think?’ John asked pointedly. ‘You know about healing and sickness and stuff.’

Castiel cocked his head and carefully looked over Professor Lupin’s face.

‘I can’t say exactly since I can’t take his temperature, but it looks like exhaustion and malnutrition to me,’ Castiel said.

‘Nothing a good feast can’t fix, then,’ John said lightly. ‘So, when are you going to tell us what happened to your face?’

Castiel started, then bit his lip. His injuries were a lot better than they had been, but the bruises were still obvious and his eye was still a little bloodshot.

‘Some Muggles attacked me while I was out walking in my village,’ he told them.

Hermione gasped.

‘Why?’ Sherlock asked.

Castiel shrugged.

‘Perhaps because I’m small. An easy target.’

‘Do you know who they are?’

‘No. Just some boys from the village.’

John grimaced.

‘I’m glad they didn’t hurt you too much,’ he said sympathetically.

Castiel glanced at Harry. They both knew how bad it had really been and Castiel suspected that Sherlock could tell as well, but they decided not to say anything

‘What did Mr Weasley want with you, Harry?’ John asked.

‘He wanted to warn me about Sirius Black and he wanted me to promise I wouldn’t go looking for him,’ Harry explained. ‘Apparently he’s escaped to come after me.’

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. John looked around at all the grave faces.

‘Who’s Sirius Black?’ he said, bewildered.

They all turned to stare at him.

‘Yeah, Muggle-born and not Hermione.’

‘Sirius Black was You-Know-Who’s most loyal supporter,’ Sherlock said. ‘He lost everything when Harry defeated him, his mind included. He murdered thirteen people with a single curse.’

‘ _What?’_ John said, horrified. ‘And he wants _Harry?’_

‘That’s probably why Fudge let me off so easy. He probably was just happy I was still alive. I don’t know why I’d go out looking for Black, but everyone seems to think I would,’ Harry said.

‘To be fair, Harry, you did go after You-Know-Who twice,’ John pointed out.

‘Hey, I didn’t know it was him either of those times, and it’s not like I did it on purpose.’

‘You have to admit, though, you can see why people would be scared you’d do it this time.’

Harry shrugged.

‘No one’s ever escaped from Azkaban before,’ Sherlock said seriously, bringing the conversation back down to earth. ‘And no one knows how he did it.’

‘He was a top-security prisoner, too,’ said Ron.

‘But they’ll catch him, won’t they?’ Hermione said anxiously. ‘They have all the Muggles out looking for him.’

‘What’s that noise?’ Ron said suddenly.

There was a faint whistling noise coming from somewhere in the compartment.

‘It’s coming from your trunk, Harry,’ Ron said, reaching into the luggage rack. A moment he pulled out what looked like a spinning top from between Harry’s robes. It was spinning very fast and glowing brilliantly.

‘What is that?’ John asked.

‘It’s a Pocket Sneakoscope. A cheap one, mind you,’ said Ron. ‘It’s supposed to detect untrustworthiness, but it went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol’s leg.’

‘Well, were you doing anything untrustworthy?’ Hermione asked.

‘No! Well, I wasn’t supposed to be using Errol since he can’t really do long journeys, but how else was I supposed to get it to Harry?’

‘Stick it back in the trunk,’ Harry advised, ‘before it wakes him up.’

Ron rolled it up in a particularly horrid pair of Uncle Vernon’s socks and closed the lid of the trunk on it.

‘Maybe you can get it checked out at Hogsmeade. I hear they’ve got all sorts at Dervish and Banges. Magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me.’

‘Do you know much about Hogsmeade?’ Hermione asked eagerly. ‘I’ve read it’s the only non-Muggle settlement in Britain.’

‘Yeah, I think it is,’ Ron said off-handedly. ‘I just want to get into Honeydukes.’

‘What’s that?’ John asked.

‘It’s this sweetshop,’ said Ron, a dreamy look coming over him, ‘where they have _everything.’_

Ron went on to describe all the different kinds of sweets he wanted to try, and Hermione the sights she wanted to see. John sniggered as clearly neither were listening to what the other was saying.

‘The sweets do sound good, but it’ll be nice to get out of school for a bit. I know you can’t wait to explore it,’ John said to Sherlock, who shrugged noncommittally.

‘You’ll have to tell me all about it,’ Harry said heavily.

‘What d’you mean?’ said Ron.

‘I can’t go. The Dursleys wouldn’t sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn’t either.’

Ron looked horrified.

‘ _You’re not allowed to come?_ But – no way – McGonagall or someone can give you permission – or we can ask Fred and George, they know all the secret passages out of the castle – ‘

‘Ron!’ Hermione said sharply. ‘I don’t think Harry should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose – ‘

‘Yeah, I expect that’s what McGonagall will say when I ask for permission,’ Harry said bitterly.

‘But if _we’re_ with him, Black wouldn’t dare – ‘

‘Yes, Ron, because a cold-blooded, mass-murderer would never risk facing a bunch of teenagers,’ Sherlock said sarcastically.

‘So, you don’t think Harry should go to Hogsmeade?’ Ron scowled.

‘I didn’t say that. I think if he does go, he needs to be protected, and they can’t protect him if they don’t know where he is.’

Hermione started fiddling with the latches in Crookshanks’ basket.

‘Don’t let that thing out!’ Ron said, but too late.

Crookshanks leapt lightly out of the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron’s knees. The lump that was Scabbers trembled in Ron’s pocket and Ron shoved Crookshanks away angrily.

‘Ron, don’t!’ said Hermione.

Professor Lupin stirred and they watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head and slept on.

‘Is this your cat, Hermione?’ John said, reaching down to scratch Crookshanks behind the ears. ‘He’s sweet.’

Crookshanks purred at John’s touch and settled himself down in John’s lap, with his eyes fixed on Ron’s top pocket.

At lunch time, the food trolley witch arrived at their compartment.

‘Anything off the trolley, dears?’ she said sweetly.

‘Yes, can I have some pumpkin juice, please?’ John said immediately.

‘Do you think we should wake him up?’ Castiel asked, nodding towards Professor Lupin.

John, who was closest, tried to wake him.

‘Er – Professor? Excuse me, Professor?’

He didn’t move.

‘Don’t worry, dear,’ said the witch as she handed Harry the food and drinks to pass around. ‘If he’s hungry when he wakes up, I’ll be up front with the driver.’

‘I suppose he _is_ asleep?’ said Ron quietly, as the witch slid the compartment door closed. ‘I mean – he hasn’t died, has he?’

‘No, he’s breathing,’ said John. ‘ _Wingardium Leviosa!’_

He levitated his cup of juice where it wouldn’t get knocked over, so that he could dig through his bag safely. He pulled out a small rectangle of foil and Sherlock, Ron and Castiel watched in fascination as he popped out two, tiny, white pills.

‘What’s that?’ Ron asked.

John put them in his mouth and swallowed them down with some pumpkin juice.

‘Painkillers,’ he said.

‘Is it magic?’ Sherlock asked.

‘No, just chemicals, I think.’

‘So, is it a Muggle remedy?’ said Castiel.

‘Yeah, it’s for pain,’ said John, handing him the foil packet for him to look at.

‘You’re in pain?’

‘Just a headache. You take two with a drink, wait half an hour and the headache goes away,’ John explained.

‘Perhaps I should look into Muggle medicine,’ Castiel said thoughtfully, giving John the pills back.

‘They’re not very good for broken bones or anything, but stuff like headaches they work really well on.’

 

Though he might not have been very good company, Professor Lupin’s presence in their compartment certainly had its uses. Around mid-afternoon, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle appeared at their door.

‘Well, look who it is,’ Malfoy said lazily.

Without looking at him, Sherlock said, ‘Ah, Malfoy. How do you feel about your father being sacked as governor? They offered Mycroft the position, of course, but he turned it down. It’s beneath him now that he works in the Minister’s office.’

Malfoy ground his teeth and went to enter the compartment, but froze as he saw Professor Lupin.

‘Who’s that?’ he said.

‘New teacher,’ Harry said casually. ‘What were you going to say, Malfoy?’

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t stupid enough to try anything in front of a teacher.

‘C’mon,’ he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared back down the train.

Thick rain had begun to fall while they were talking to Malfoy and the windows filled with a solid, shimmering grey colour that got darker and darker the further north they went. The lights flickered on and Ron peered out of the now pitch black window.

‘We must be nearly there,’ he said.

The words had hardly left his mouth when the train began to slow down.

‘Brilliant,’ said Ron. ‘I’m starving, I want to get to the feast.’

But neither Hermione nor Sherlock were pleased.

‘We can’t be there yet,’ Hermione said, checking her watch.

Sherlock sat up straight, frowning in dismay.

‘So why’re we stopping?’

The train slowed futher and Harry, who was closest to the door, stuck his head out to see what was going on. The train jolted to a sudden stop and several trunks down the train fell out of their luggage racks. Then all the lamps went out and they were plunged into darkness. John’s stomach flipped and he felt Sherlock shift beside him.

‘What’s going on?’ said Ron’s voice.

‘Ouch!’ gasped Hermione ‘Ron, that was my foot!’

‘D’you think we’ve broken down?’ Harry said.

‘Dunno…’

There was a squeaking sound and Ron’s dim outline was wiping a patch of window clean trying to see outside.

‘There’s something moving out there,’ Ron said. ‘I think people are coming aboard…’

The compartment door opened and there was a loud thud as someone fell over.

‘Sorry! D’you know what’s going on? Ouch! Sorry – ‘

‘Hello, Neville,’ said Harry.

‘Harry, is that you? What’s happening?’

‘No idea. Sit down – ‘

‘Oof!’ grunted John as Neville tried to sit on him, earning himself a hiss from Crookshanks, who was already sitting on his knees.

Ginny also turned up in their compartment, making the space quite cramped. John could feel agitation emanating from Castiel and annoyance from Sherlock as Ginny tripped on to him. Confusion and the odd cry of pain buzzed in the compartment and John felt a movement beside him.

‘Quiet!’ a hoarse voice said suddenly.

Professor Lupin had woken up at last. None of them spoke. There was a soft, crackling noise and a light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin had conjured some flames into the palm of his hand, illuminating his tired face and wary eyes.

‘Stay where you are,’ he said in the same hoarse voice. He got slowly to his feet and held his handful of fire out in front of him, but the door slid open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. A scabby, slimy, dead-looking hand protruded from its cloak, visible for only a second before it was withdrawn inside the cloak. The thing inside the hood drew a long, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck the very air out of the room. An unpleasant shiver ran down John’s spine and a deep, terrible coldness filled his chest. He recognised the feeling, having felt it once before, and shook his head trying to fight it off. He saw Ginny huddle herself in a corner and watched as both Harry and Castiel collapsed. Harry onto the floor and Castiel across his seat. They twitched slightly and John felt Sherlock start to shiver uncontrollably beside him. Crookshanks hissed and arched his back before retreating into his basket, where it was safe.

Professor Lupin stepped over Harry and faced the thing boldly, pulling out his wand.

‘None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go,’ he said to it.

It paid him no heed, however, and continued to take long, rattling breaths.

Professor Lupin muttered something and a whispy, silvery light burst out of the end of his wand. The thing backed out of the compartment and glided away. Professor Lupin closed the door behind it and sat back down in his seat. A few minutes passed before the lights flickered back on again and John could see the effect that the hooded creature had had on everyone. Harry and Castiel were still unconscious, Ginny was still huddled in the corner and everyone was shaky and clammy, and extremely pale.

‘Is everyone all right?’ Professor Lupin asked quietly, breaking the spell.

‘Does everyone look all right to you?’ Sherlock snapped.

John turned to look at him, but instead of annoyance, he saw fear in Sherlock’s eyes and he was wracked with tremors.

‘Sherlock - ‘

‘I’m fine,’ he snapped again, folding his arms moodily.

The train began to move again and as it picked up some speed, Castiel stirred, opened his eyes and bolted upright. Professor Lupin put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped away as if he’d been electrocuted. His breath shallowed to short bursts and worsened until he was hyperventilating. John called out to him, but Castiel didn’t seem to hear him, nor did he seem to see everyone staring at him, despite the fact that he was looking around wildly. He just tugged at his clothes and hair, and allowed no one to touch him. Nobody knew what to do.

‘Maybe someone should go and find Gabriel,’ John said nervously.

As if on cue, the compartment door opened again and Gabriel shoved his way in, stepping past everyone and sitting in front of Castiel, blocking his view of everything so only Gabriel was in his line of sight. He, too, was very pale, and looked like he might throw up.

‘Castiel,’ he said gently. ‘It’s me. It’s Gabriel.’

Castiel didn’t hear him and started rocking back and forth, muttering rapidly in what sounded like French.

‘It’s all right. Everything’s all right now.’

Everyone watched him try to calm Castiel in silence, unable to help. Gabriel just sat talking to him as calmly as he could, repeating his own and Castiel’s name until Castiel finally met his eyes.

‘Gabriel?’ he whispered.

Relief spread across Gabriel’s face.

‘That’s right, it’s me,’ he smiled.

Castiel took a great shuddering breath and buried his face into Gabriel’s shoulder, allowing Gabriel to put an arm around him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, his voice muffled by Gabriel’s robes.

‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’

Just then, Harry stirred and finally awoke.

‘Are you okay?’ Ron asked, helping him back into his seat.

He, along with everyone else, was shaking and covered in cold sweat.

‘Yeah,’ he said, adjusting his glasses. ‘What happened? Where’s that – that thing? Who screamed?’

‘No one screamed,’ Ron said nervously.

Harry looked around the compartment.

‘Hi, Gabriel,’ he said as he saw him.

‘Hi, Harry.’

Harry blinked in confusion.

‘But I heard screaming –‘

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces and he passed it out to everyone.

‘Eat it. It’ll help.’

John put it in his mouth and was relieved to feel the coldness begin to recede and a warmth spread to the tips of his fingers. He was pleased to see that Sherlock had done the same and a little colour had returned to his face. Castiel ate his piece encouraged by Gabriel and even his shaking lessened a little.

‘What was that thing?’ Harry asked Lupin, without eating his chocolate.

‘A Dementor. One of the Dementors of Azkaban.’

Everyone stared at him. He crumpled up the chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

‘Eat,’ he repeated to Harry. ‘You’ll feel better. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and speak to the driver…’

He strolled past and disappeared.

‘You should go, too, Gabriel,’ Castiel said.

Gabriel looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

‘What?’

‘You left all your things in your compartment. You should go and get them before we arrive.’

‘I –well if you’re all right…’

‘I’ll be fine. Really.’

Gabriel got to his feet hesitantly.

‘I guess I’ll see you later, then.’

He too exited the compartment.

‘I don’t get it. What happened?’ Harry said, wiping his face.

Ron and Hermione took turns telling him what had happened and how Lupin chased the Dementor away.

‘It was horrible,’ said Neville in a higher voice than usual. ‘Did you feel how cold it went when it came in?’

‘I felt weird,’ said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. ‘Like I’d never be cheerful again…’

Ginny, who was still huddled in the corner, gave a small sob, and Hermione went over to put a comforting arm around her.

‘But did any of you – pass out?’ Harry said awkwardly.

‘Castiel did,’ said Ron, ‘and Ginny was shaking like mad.’

‘You did?’ Harry said to Castiel.

He looked away.

Professor Lupin returned and paused as he entered.

‘I haven’t poisoned that chocolate, you know,’ he said with a small smile.

Harry took a bite of his chocolate.

‘We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes,’ Lupin continued. ‘Are you all right? Harry? Castiel?’

‘Fine,’ Harry muttered, and Castiel nodded jerkily.

None of them spoke much as they pulled into Hogsmeade station and they exited out onto the platform. They heard Hagrid call out to them, but they were rushed past him by the surging crowd. John, Sherlock and Castiel ended up in a carriage together and John seemed to be the least affected off the three of them, though he still felt terrible. Sherlock hadn’t spoken a word since he’d snapped at Professor Lupin and Castiel was still ghostly pale. As the carriage trundled towards the wrought iron gates, John saw that there were more Dementors guarding the entrance. Cold washed over him once again and he shuddered. Sherlock and Castiel shrunk at their presence, squeezing their eyes shut until the carriage had passed through the gate. They jumped out of the carriage when it came to a stop, with Harry, Ron and Hermione hopping out of the one behind them. They had taken no more than a step towards the castle when Malfoy inserted himself between them and the front doors.

‘You _fainted,_ Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually _fainted?’_ he said gleefully.

Before anyone else could react, Castiel was facing Malfoy with his wand drawn.

‘What are _you_ going to do?’ Malfoy sneered.

‘Don’t test me, Malfoy,’ Castiel snarled.

He gripped his wand so hard his knuckles turned white, and a dazzling light shone out of the tip of it.

‘Is there a problem?’ said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just got out of the next carriage.

‘Not any more,’ Castiel said forcefully.

Malfoy glared at Castiel, but walked away without saying anything else.

Castiel put his wand away and squared his shoulders. Hermione put a hand on his arm in concern, but he jerked it away from her.

‘Everyone reacts to the Dementors differently,’ Lupin said reassuringly. ‘He’ll be fine.’

Together, they walked up the steps to the Entrance Hall, which was lit with flaming torches. They had barely glimpsed the Great Hall, when a voice called out, ‘Potter! Granger! Edlund! I want to see you!’

They turned around and Professor McGonagall was calling over the heads of the crowd, and they fought over to her.

‘There’s no need to look so worried – I just want a word with you in my office,’ she told them. ‘Move along there, the rest of you.’

Once they were in her office, she motioned for them to sit down. As Professor McGonagall settled herself behind her desk, Harry noticed that Castiel had started shaking again, though he was doing his best not to show it.

‘Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that the two of you had taken ill on the train,’ said Professor McGonagall, just as Madam Pomfrey bustled in.

‘Hello, Castiel,’ she said warmly.

‘Hello, Madam Pomfrey,’ he replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ she said as she saw Harry. ‘I suppose you’ve been doing something dangerous again?’

‘It was a Dementor, Poppy,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Both of them.’

They exchanged a dark look and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

‘Setting Dementors around a school,’ she muttered, feeling their foreheads. ‘They won’t be the first to collapse. Yes, they’re all clammy. Terrible things, Dementors, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate – ‘

‘I’m not delicate!’ Harry said crossly.

‘Of course you’re not.’

Madam Pomfrey continued her examination of them.

‘What on earth have you done to your face?’ Madam Pomfrey said, spotting Castiel’s bruises. ‘Been getting into fights again?’

‘Every day,’ said Castiel.

Madam Pomfrey smiled at him. ‘Well, in that case, I hope you won.’

‘You know me.’

‘What do they need?’ Professor McGonagall asked. ‘Should they perhaps spend the night in the hospital wing?’

‘I’m _fine!’_ Harry said, jumping up.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Castiel.

‘I would rather go to the feast,’ he said.

‘Well, you should have some chocolate, at the very least,’ said Madam Pomfrey.

‘We’ve had some,’ said Harry. ‘Professor Lupin gave it to us.’

‘Did he, now?’ Madam Pomfrey said approvingly. ‘Finally, a Defence Against the Dark Arts that nows their remedies.’

‘Are you both sure you feel all right?’ Professor McGonagall said sharply.

They both said that they felt fine.

‘Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her timetable, then we can go down to the feast together.’

They left with Madam Pomfrey who addressed Castiel before she went up to the hospital wing.

‘I hope I can count on your help as much as I did last year.’

‘Absolutely,’ Castiel said.

She smiled at him and walked away. He seemed to retreat into himself once she was gone and Harry couldn’t get a word out of him in the minutes they were waiting for Hermione. She emerged looking very happy about something and the four of them made their way down to the Great Hall.

‘Oh, no,’ Hermione said softly. ‘We’ve missed the Sorting!’

But neither Castiel, nor Harry were all that bothered by this. Castiel made his way across the room to Sherlock, who had saved him a seat at the Ravenclaw table, refusing to meet Gabriel’s eyes, who was clearly trying to get his attention, on his way past. Harry and Hermione sat down with Ron and John, but before they could explain what was going on, Dumbledore stood up.

‘Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!’ he said. ‘I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the wat before we become befuddled by our excellent feast… As you all will be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry business.

‘They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that no one is to leave the school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises – or even Invisibility Cloaks. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to our Prefects and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure no students run afoul of the Dementors. I also remind you all that happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if only one remember to turn on the light.’

Dumbledore paused and no one moved or spoke.

‘On a happier note,’ he continued. ‘I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.

‘Firstly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.’

There was some scattered, unenthusiastic applause. Only those that had been on the train with him clapped hard. He looked particularly shabby next to the other teachers.

‘As to our second appointment,’ continued Dumbledore, ‘well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to announce that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his teaching duties.

John grinned from ear to ear as applause ripped through the Great Hall.

‘We should have known!’ Ron roared, pounding the table. ‘Who else would have given us a biting book?’

‘Well, I think that’s everything of importance,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Let the feast begin!’

The golden plates and goblets filled themselves and John helped himself. The delicious feast certainly helped to dispel the horrible feeling that had lodged in his chest because of the Dementor, though he was unable to shake it off completely. He suspected a good night’s sleep would do that.

Finally, the feast was over and everyone began to filter out towards their dormitories and John met Sherlock just outside the Great Hall.

‘Hey,’ John said. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Better,’ said Sherlock.

They moved towards the staircase and heard a boy complaining loudly as he went past.

‘What is with this school?’ he said. ‘I should have made my dad let me go to Ilvermorny.’

John turned but he was gone before he could see who it was.

‘What’s Ilvermorny?’ he asked Sherlock as they climbed the marble staircase.

‘American wizarding school.’

‘Oh.’

They reached the portrait of the swan that was the Ravenclaw’s exit towards their dormitories and John hesitated.

‘So, I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?’ he said awkwardly. ‘And try and get some sleep, will you?’

‘I will,’ Sherlock said, bemused.

‘Well, ‘night then.’

‘Goodnight, John.’

John was more than happy to go to sleep with a full belly, and even happier when it was free of the odd dreams and nightmares that had plagued him over the summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to hhhelcat andtheforestprincex for the comments. I know I'm not the most vocal author but I still appreciate it.


	3. Talons and Tea Leaves

Talons and Tea Leaves

John sat down next to Hermione at breakfast and rested his head in his hands. His peaceful sleep had been ruined when he woke up with a savage headache and a painful pressure behind his eyes.

‘Ooh, good, we’re starting some new subjects today,’ Hermione said happily as Fred and George passed them down their timetables.

‘Hermione,’ said Ron, ‘they’ve messed up your timetable. Look – they’ve got you down for about ten subjects a day.’

‘I’ll manage. I’ve fixed it with Professor McGonagall.’

‘But look, see this morning? Nine o’clock, Divination, under that, Muggle Studies, and _look –_ underneath that, Arithmancy, _nine o’clock._ I mean, I know you’re good, Hermione, but no one’s _that_ good. How’re you supposed to be in three classes at once?’

‘Oh, leave her alone, Ron,’ John moaned. ‘She’ll be fine.’

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall, along with Sherlock and Castiel.

‘All righ’?’ Hagrid said eagerly, pausing on his way to the staff table. ‘Yer in my firs’ ever lesson! Righ’ after lunch! Bin up since five getting’ everythin’ ready… hope it’s okay… me, a teacher… hones’ly…’

He grinned broadly and continued up to the staff table.

Sherlock sat down, briefly putting his hand on John’s shoulder.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, I’m fine, just a headache,’ said John, lifting up his head. ‘What have you got first?’

‘Potions,’ said Sherlock. ‘You?’

‘Divination.’

Sherlock’s arm jerked, knocking over a jug of milk. John raised his eyebrows.

‘Oops.’

Fortunately, he was saved the trouble of explaining himself by Castiel.

‘Perhaps you should go to the hospital wing and have Madam Pomfrey give you something for that headache,’ he said.

‘Nah,’ said John, rubbing his eyes. ‘I don’t want to miss any of my new lessons today. I can deal with it.’

Harry, Ron and Hermione rose from their seats.

‘Divination’s all the way up the North Tower,’ said John, also standing up. ‘Better go. Don’t want to be late.’

He smiled, patting Sherlock on the arm on his way past. Once he was gone, Sherlock breathed a deep sigh.

‘What is it?’ Castiel asked.

‘I wasn’t expecting him to have Divination so soon. When he realises what he is, it’s most likely to be during that lesson.’

‘I see. Are you worried?’

‘I would rather be with him when he finds out. I don’t see him being very happy about it. He’s quite happy with not standing out too much.’

‘That makes sense, but it’ll happen when it happens. There’s not much you can do about that except prepare yourself and what you will say,’ Castiel said bracingly. ‘Come, it’s time for Potions.’

 

John was stood with Harry in an unfamiliar corridor listening to Ron and Hermione arguing about which way North Tower was.

‘No, it can’t be that way,’ Ron was saying. ‘That’s south, look, you can see the lake out of that window.’

‘Aha!’ a voice yelled suddenly.

They all turned around and saw a squat knight in a suit of armour brandishing his sword at them from within a portrait.

‘What villains are these that trespass upon my private lands? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!’

He swung his sword, but it was too long for him. He overbalanced and landed face down in the grass.

‘Are you all right?’ Harry said.

‘Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!’

He seized his sword again and used it to push himself up, but the tip sank deep into the ground and he couldn’t pull it out again. After a few minutes of pulling it as hard as he could, he flopped down, exhausted.

‘Listen,’ said Harry. ‘We’re trying to find the North Tower. Can you help us?’

‘A quest!’ the knight cried, his rage vanishing instantly. ‘Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else perish in the charge! On foot, good sirs and gentle lady! On! On!’

He ran out of the frame and they hurried after him, following the clanking sound of his armour. Encouraging them all the way, he led them to the tower. They heard voices above them and knew they were in the right place.

‘Farewell!’ the knight cried. ‘Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!’

‘Yeah, we’ll call you,’ Ron muttered as the knight disappeared, ‘if we ever need someone mental.’

They came out on to a small landing where the rest of the class were milling about. There were no doors leading off the landing, but there was a trapdoor in the ceiling with a plaque on it that read _Sybill Trelawney. Divination._

‘How are we supposed to get up there?’ Harry said.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. The trapdoor opened and a silvery ladder descended. They climbed up it and found themselves in the strangest classroom, crammed with circular tables, squashy pouffes and armchairs. It looked more like a tea shop than a classroom. The red curtains were all drawn shut, giving everything a crimson tinge. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was lit in the grate was giving off a heavy, sickly perfume. Much to John’s surprise, the more of it he breathed in, the more it eased his headache. Shelves ran around the walls and they were covered in candles, playing cards, crystal balls and countless tea cups. John was about to sit down when a very skinny woman, dressed in a floaty dress, a spangled shawl and draped in chains and beads appeared in front of him, peering at him through very large glasses. Even her arms and hands were encrusted with jewels and John squirmed as her hugely magnified eyes stared at him for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Someone coughed and she finally turned her attention to the rest of the class.

‘Welcome,’ she said. ‘How nice it is to see you all in the physical world at last. Sit, my children, sit.’

They all sat awkwardly in the deep chairs while Professor Trelawney lowered herself into a large, winged armchair by the fire.

‘Welcome to Divination,’ she said to them. ‘My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye. So, you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can only take you so far in this field…’

John sniggered at the surprised look on Hermione’s face.

‘Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future. It is a Gift granted to only a few.’

Her gaze once again rested on John.

‘You, boy,’ she said suddenly to Neville, ‘is your grandmother well?’

‘I think so,’ said Neville tremulously.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure, dear,’ she said. ‘We will be covering the basics of Divination. The first term will be devoted to reading tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to Palmistry. In the summer term we shall move on to the crystal ball – that is if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I, myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever.’

John bit his lip trying to hide his amusement. Everyone was now listening to her avidly and she had Lavender Brown bring her an enormous silver teapot.

‘Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, or right if you are left-handed, then turn the cup upside down on your saucer. Wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future._ I shall move among you, helping and instruction. Oh, and dear-‘ she caught Neville by the arm, ‘after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink.’

Sure enough, Neville reached up to the shelf of teacups and there was a tinkling of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him, holding a dustpan and brush, and said, ‘One of the blue ones, then dear, if you wouldn’t mind…’

John and Hermione paired off and sat facing each other near Harry and Ron. They drank the tea quickly and swilled the dregs as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped them. They opened their books and John went first, reading Hermione’s leaves.

‘Okay, so that wobbly line there means challenges, and you’ve got a spiral here and some dashes. So you’re going to have some challenges and you’ll be busy, but you’ll have a lot of energy, and time for problem solving. That’s not bad, Hermione,’ John smiled. ‘Knowing you, you’ll probably get past these challenges, no problem.’

Hermione just smiled, though looked slightly surprised.

‘Okay, do mine now,’ he encouraged.

Hermione inspected the leaves and the book, but before she could say anything, there was a sudden scream. They turned and saw Professor Trelawney sinking into an empty chair nearest Harry, eyes closed and clutching her chest.

‘What is it, Professor?’ asked Dean Thomas.

Professor Trelwaney shook her head.

‘No, no, no – perhaps it would be kinder not to say…’

Everyone was looking nervously between her and Harry. It seemed that she’d seen something terrible in Harry’s cup, so John picked it up to have a look himself. He saw a falcon, a club, a skull, and-

‘My dear,’ said Professor Trelawney, eyes opening dramatically, ‘you have the Grim.’

A few people in the class gasped.

‘The what?’ said Harry.

‘The Grim, my dear, the Grim!’ she cried, looking shocked that Harry hadn’t understood. ‘The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear, it is and omen – the worst omen – of _death!’_

John frowned.

‘It doesn’t look like the Grim to me,’ he said.

‘Excuse me?’ said Professor Trelawney.

‘Yeah, look. It’s definitely a dog, but not like, an evil dog. He actually looks sort of friendly to me.’

Professor Trelawney approached him with a queer look on her face.

‘May I see your wand?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘Your wand, dear.’

‘Er, all right.’

He pulled it out and handed it to her. Harry had never paid much attention to John’s wand before, but now it was in front of him, he saw that it was a smooth, creamy colour with a slight, silvery sheen.

‘Oooh, I like your wand, John,’ said Lavendar.

John turned red around the bridge of his nose.

‘What is it made of?’ asked Professor Trelawney.

‘Er, Silver Lime, I think he said.’

‘I see, and the core?’

‘Unicorn hair.’

‘Yes. Yes, well,’ she handed John his wand back, ‘you see, I am much more experienced in these matters, and have seen many omens in my time. I’m sorry to say that this is definitely the Grim.’

‘If you say so,’ John shrugged.

‘I think we will leave the lesson here for today,’ Professor Trelawney said in her mistiest voice. ‘Yes… please pack away your things…’

The class took their teacups up to Professor Trelawney’s desk, packed their bags, descended the ladder and made their way to Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall was trying to teach them about Animagi, though most of them weren’t even watching when she transformed herself into a tabby cat in front of them.

‘Really, what has gotten into you all today?’ she said, turning back into herself. ‘Not that it matters, but that’s the first time my transformation’s not got an applause from a class.’

Everyone’s heads turned towards Harry, and Hermione raised her hand.

‘Please, Professor, we’ve just had our first Divination lesson, and we were reading tea leaves –‘

‘Ah, of course,’ said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. ‘There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?’

Everyone stared at her.

‘Me,’ Harry said, finally.

‘I see,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she started at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favourite way of greeting a new class. Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic and I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, indeed,’ her eyes flickered over to John for a fraction of a second, ‘and Professor Trelawney…

‘You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off homework today. I assure you, if you die, you need not hand it in.’

Hermione laughed, but a lot of the rest of the class did not look convinced.

Transfiguration ended and they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch where Castiel and Sherlock were waiting.

‘How was Divination?’ Sherlock asked John as he sat down.

‘Not bad. Professor Trelawney’s a bit weird, though. She wanted to see my wand.

‘Really? Why?’

‘No idea.’

‘May I see it?’

John made a face at him, but handed the wand to him.

‘Why is everyone being so weird today?’ he muttered.

Sherlock examined it closely.

‘Silver Lime?’ he said.

‘Yeah. I don’t understand, what’s so great about it?’

Sherlock shrugged and gave it back to him.

‘Wandlore isn’t really my area,’ he said.

John reached for some stew and Ron and Hermione were still arguing over whether or not Harry did have the Grim. John quickly told Sherlock and Castiel about Professor Trelawney’s predictions.

‘Hermione, if Harry’s seen the Grim, that’s bad,’ Ron was saying. ‘My Uncle Billius saw one and he died twenty-four hours later!’

‘Coincidence,’ Hermione said airily.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about!’ said Ron, starting to get angry. ‘Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!’

‘I really don’t think it is the Grim, Ron,’ John interrupted. ‘I mean, I would have expected a death omen to be, well, more ominous.’

‘Well, what do you think it was?’ said Ron, affronted.

‘It was definitely a dog. Maybe you’re going to get a dog, Harry.’

Sherlock snorted.

‘I think Divination seems very woolly,’ Hermione said, propping her Arithmancy book open against a juice jug. ‘A lot of guesswork if you ask me.’

‘There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!’ Ron said hotly.

‘You didn’t seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep,’ Hermione said coolly, sending John and Sherlock into a fit of silent laughter.

‘You just don’t like being rubbish at something for a change!’

This touched a nerve and Hermione slammed her book down on the table.

‘If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I’m not sure I’ll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared to my Arithmancy class!’

She snatched up her bag.

‘Sherlock, can I speak to you outside, please?’ she said, stalking away.

‘Looks like someone’s in trouble,’ John sniggered, but Sherlock had a serious look on his face and followed Hermione outside.

‘What is it?’ he asked her.

‘I thought you ought to know that John might figure out what’s going on soon,’ she told him.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘He read my tea leaves without consulting his book once. He didn’t notice since he was distracted by Harry’s tea leaves, but more importantly, his reading was correct as far as I can tell.’

‘I thought you didn’t believe in Divination,’ Sherlock said.

‘John’s different. He’s the real thing.’

Sherlock sighed.

‘You know what’s so important about his wand, don’t you?’ said Hermione.

‘Silver Lime wands are particularly drawn to Seers. Now that Professor Trelawney’s drawn attention to it, everyone will know soon enough,’ Sherlock said grimly.

Hermione grimaced.

‘I suggest you start figuring out what you want to say to him. He won’t be happy that you kept it from him, no matter what the centaurs said.’

‘Thank you, Hermione.’

Lunch time finished and Sherlock and Castiel went off to Herbology, while the Gryffindors went down to Hagrid’s hut for Care of Magical Creatures.

They encountered the Slytherins and groaned as they realised that they would have these lessons with them. Malfoy was there, complaining loudly about how the school was going downhill.

‘C’mon now, get a move on,’ Hagrid called to them. ‘Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Righ’ follow me!’

Hagrid led them around the edge of the Forest, John feeling an odd sensation of eyes on him, and they found themselves outside a paddock.

‘Everyone gather round the fence here!’ Hagrid called. ‘That’s it – make sure you can see. Now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books-‘

‘How?’ Malfoy said coldly.

‘Eh?’ said Hagrid.

‘How do we open our books?’ Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters,_ which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Most of the Slytherins pulled out their books as well, all similarly bound.

‘Hasn’ – hasn’ anyone bin able ter open their books?’ said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

‘We have, Hagrid,’ said John.

They Gryffindors, armed with the knowledge that Castiel had given them, all pulled out their perfectly placid copies.

‘What’s the matter, Malfoy? Couldn’t figure it out?’ John said sweetly.

Hagrid grinned broadly.

‘Righ’ then,’ he said happily. ‘Yeh’ve got yer books an’ now yeh need the Magical Creatures. I’ll go an’ get ‘em. You lot wait here.’

He strode off into the Forest.

‘God, this place has gone to the dogs,’ Malfoy scoffed. ‘That oaf teaching classes. My father will not be happy when he hears about this.’

‘Oh yeah, and what’s he going to do about it?’ John butted in. ‘He got sacked as a school governor, remember?’

‘My father knows the Minister. He’s got connections.’

‘Oooh, he has ‘connections’, now I’m scared,’ John said sarcastically.

Hermione wacked him on the arm.

‘Ow!’

‘Don’t provoke him!’ she said. ‘He’s not worth it.’

‘How dare you!’ Malfoy said furiously.

Before he could do anything, Lavender Brown squealed and pointed across the paddock. Hagrid came around the corner leading a dozen very strange creatures. They had the bodies, hind legs and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings and heads of what looked like giant eagles.

‘Hippogriffs!’ Hagrid said to them. ‘Beau’iful, aren’t they?’

John thought that they were very handsome, indeed.

‘So,’ said Hagrid, ‘if yeh wan’ ter come a bit nearer…’

No one seemed to want to, except Harry, Ron, Hermione and John.

‘Now, firs’ thing yeh gotta know abou’ Hippogriffs is they’re proud,’ said Hagrid. ‘Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don’ never insult one, ‘cause it migh’ be the last thing yeh do.’

Malfoy wasn’t listening, instead talking quietly to Crabbe and Goyle.

‘Oi, Malfoy, pay attention,’ John snapped suddenly. ‘Hagrid’s telling us how not to die. I thought that you, of all people, valued your life.’

Malfoy turned pink.

‘Don’t ever speak to me like that, Mudblood,’ Malfoy snarled, forgetting that Hagrid was there and was now a teacher.

‘Detention, Malfoy,’ Hagrid growled. ‘We don’t use language like that in my class.’

Malfoy looked absolutely livid and John grinned at Hagrid, encouraging him further.

‘What did I jus’ say?’ Hagrid said.

‘I don’t know,’ Malfoy mumbled.

‘Righ’ then, I’ll repeat myself, shall I?’

Malfoy, humiliated, paid attention to Hagrid this time.

‘Yeh always wait for the Hippogriff ter make the firs’ move,’ Hagrid continued. ‘It’s polite, see? Yeh walk towards him, and yeh bow, an’ yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh’re allowed to touch him. If he doesn’ bow, then yeh back away.

‘So, who wants ter go first?’

The class backed even further away in response.

‘No one?’ Hagrid said, pleading.

John went to step forward, but Harry beat him to it.

‘I’ll do it,’ he said, climbing over the fence.

‘Good man, Harry! Righ’ then, let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak.’

He untied a grey Hippogriff and pulled him away from the others.

‘Easy, now, Harry,’ Hagrid said quietly. ‘Yeh’ve got eye contact, now try not ter blink. Hippogriffs don’t trust yeh if yeh blink too much… That’s it, Harry…now, bow…’

Harry did as he was told, and after a minute, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees, sinking into a bow.

‘Well done, Harry!’ said Hagrid, ecstatic. ‘Righ’, yeh can touch him now! Pat him on the beak, go on!’

Harry approached Buckbeak carefully, holding a hand out. He patted him on the beak, which he seemed to greatly enjoy. John grinned widely, clapping with the rest of the class.

‘Righ’, then, Harry, I reckon he migh’ let yeh ride him! Yeh climb up there, jus’ behind the wing joint, an’ mind yeh don’ pull out any of his feathers, he won’ like that…’

John gazed up at Buckbeak as he flapped gracefully upwards and soared around the paddock. He made one lap of the paddock and brought Harry back down.

‘Good work, Harry!’ Hagrid roared. ‘Okay, who else wants a go?’

John felt fairly confident, so hopped into the paddock himself. He, Ron and Hermione were given a chestnut Hippogriff to work with, while Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle worked with Buckbeak nearby. John went first and the Hippogriff bowed for him. He went up to it and patted it on the beak, just as Harry had with Buckbeak.

‘I’m not going to ride you today,’ he said gently to it. ‘I don’t think it would be much fun for either of us.’

He got the distinct impression that it had understood him and he backed away to let Hermione have a turn. He was standing there, watching her, when he felt an odd tingling in his stomach, which quickly spread down his arms and to the tips of his fingers. Suddenly, his body was propelling him sideways and his hand, quite on its own, grabbed Malfoy’s arm and pulled. Before he could register what was happening, Malfoy was screaming on the ground and Hagrid was trying to wrestle Buckbeak back into his collar. John dropped to the ground beside Malfoy a saw a huge gash down the arm that he hadn’t pulled. It was bleeding heavily, so John ripped off his cloak and pressed it against the wound. Malfoy would not stop moving around, however, and repeatedly tried to shove John away while screaming, ‘I’m dying! I’m dying!’ After a few moments of this, John grew frustrated and slapped Malfoy across the face.

‘Get a hold of yourself!’ John shouted. ‘I’m trying to help you, so keep still!’

Malfoy stopped squirming, allowing John to concentrate. He had seen Castiel use a spell to conjure bandages before, and hoped he could replicate it. He pulled the cloak away from the wound, which immediately began to pour blood. He pointed his wand and said, ‘ _Ferula’._ It worked, wrapping Malfoy’s arm tightly in bandages. Once he had done this, Hagrid lifted Malfoy off the ground and took him up to the castle, Hermione opening the paddock gate for him, and dismissing the class on the way. John stood up and dusted off his hands. He was suddenly very dizzy and the paddock span around him. The next thing he knew, he was being held up by Harry and Ron. Hermione’s concerned face appeared before him as he regained his balance.

‘What happened?’ he asked, rubbing his face.

‘Dunno,’ said Ron. ‘You just passed out.’

‘No, I meant with Malfoy. Why did Buckbeak attack him?’

‘Malfoy called him an ugly brute,’ Harry frowned. ‘I heard him.’

‘After all that fuss, he still didn’t listen,’ John said, picking up his blood-soaked cloak.

‘He owes you a thank you, at least,’ Hermione said to John. ‘If you hadn’t pulled him out of the way, he’d have a lot worse than a cut on his arm.’

John snorted.

‘I’ve got about as much chance of that as Snape learning to do ballet.’

 

Later on that night, the four of them were joined by Sherlock and Castiel to discuss the incident together in the Gryffindor common room.

‘They wouldn’t sack him, would they?’ Hermione said nervously.

‘They’d better not,’ Ron said darkly. ‘It was Malfoy’s own fault. Hagrid said not to insult them _twice.’_

‘Lucius Malfoy does have a lot of influence,’ said Sherlock.

‘Surely not since he was sacked?’ said John.

‘True, he’s not a governor anymore, but he can push for an inquiry at the Ministry if he wants to.’

Ron slammed his book shut, giving up on his Transfiguration homework.

‘Trust Malfoy to ruin it for Hagrid.’ he said angrily.

‘Hey, there’s a light on in his house,’ said Harry suddenly.

Ron checked his watch.

‘If we hurried, we could go visit him. It’s still quite early.’

‘I don’t know,’ Hermione said slowly, glancing at Harry.

‘I’m allowed to walk across the _grounds._ Sirius Black hasn’t got past the Dementors here, has he? Are you coming?’ he asked John, Sherlock and Castiel.

All three shook their heads

‘Gabriel and I are visiting him for lunch on Saturday,’ said Castiel. ‘We’ll talk to him then.’

‘I have to send a letter to Mycroft,’ Sherlock said, getting up.

‘Take Grace.’

‘Thank you.’

Sherlock left with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and John settled himself down comfortably on the sofa by the fire. Castiel opened his copy of _Spellman’s Syllabary,_ curling up in an armchair, and John felt himself drifting off…

He dreamed that he was walking around in total darkness, not even able to see his hand in front of his face. Everything was silent until a chorus of howling and barking erupted around him. He dropped to his knees, covering his ears desperately. Then came the rats. Hundreds and hundreds of them, scurrying, squeaking and nibbling. After what felt like hours, silence fell again and the rats disappeared, only to be replaced by the terrible, rattling, sucking breaths of a Dementor. There was a bright silvery light and a pressure on his chest, and he woke with a start. His arms flailed wildly and he caught Castiel, who had been trying to wake him, on the jaw.

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry!’ he said. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. It wasn’t hard.’

‘I’m _so_ sorry,’ John repeated.

‘It’s all right. You were having a nightmare. It happens.’

Sherlock returned after a while and the three of them decided to go to bed. There was nothing more they could do until they heard from Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to hhhelcat and theforestprincex


	4. The Boggart in the Wardrobe

The Boggart in the Wardrobe

The following Thursday, after a particularly infuriating Potions lesson, the Gryffindors were hurrying across the castle to their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year. Professor Lupin was not there when they arrived, so they sat at their desks, pulled out their books and waited. Finally, he arrived, looking a lot healthier than he had on the train.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said, smiling vaguely. ‘Would you all please put your books back in your bags? Today’s will be a practical lesson, so you will only need your wands.’

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical lesson before, except when Lockhart had released a cageful of pixies into the classroom the year before.

‘Right then,’ said Professor Lupin. ‘If you’d all follow me.’

The class got to their feet and buzzed with excitement and interest as they followed him out and through the corridors. They encountered Peeves along the way, stuffing a wad of chewing gum into the keyhole of a broom cupboard. When he refused to remove it at Lupin’s request, Lupin cast a spell that caused the gum to shoot out of the keyhole and up Peeves’ nose. They set off again and Lupin led them to the staff room.

‘Inside, please,’ he said, opening the door.

They entered and saw a group of Ravenclaws standing at one end of the room, and Professor Snape sitting in one of the chairs. John was delighted to see Sherlock, leaning against the back wall, and Castiel standing beside him beside him. He went up to them as Lupin thanked Snape for keeping an eye on the Ravenclaws for him.

‘What are you lot doing here?’ John asked, grinning.

‘Lupin switched a lesson with McGonagall,’ Sherlock told him. ‘We have Transfiguration instead of our next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.’

‘Oh, right. Any idea why?’

‘I think it’s to do with whatever’s in that wardrobe,’ said Castiel.

Lupin walked over to wardrobe on the other side of the room as he said this, and it started banging off the walls.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ he said calmly. ‘There’s a Boggart.’

It was now rattling the doorknob.

‘Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,’ Professor Lupin continued. ‘Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks. I once met one that lodged itself inside a grandfather clock. _This_ one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third-years some practice.

‘So, the first question we must ask ourselves: what _is_ a Boggart?’

Hermione, as always, was the first to put her hand up.

‘It’s a shape-shifter,’ she said. ‘It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us the most.’

‘Couldn’t have put it better myself,’ said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. ‘So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us fears. This means that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it yet, Harry?’

‘Er- because there are so many of us, it won’t know what shape it should be?’

‘Precisely,’ said Professor Lupin. ‘It’s always best to have company when dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake – tried to frighten two people at once and turned itself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

‘The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is _laughter._ What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

‘We will practice without wands first. After me, please… _Riddikulus!’_

‘Riddikulus!’ said the class together.

‘Good,’ said Professor Lupin. ‘Very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. The word alone is not enough, and this is where you come in, Neville.’

The wardrobe shook again and Neville stepped forward.

‘Right, Neville. First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?’

Neville hesitated, then whispered, ‘Professor Snape.’

Professor Lupin looked at him thoughtfully.

‘Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?’

‘Er- yes,’ Neville said nervously. ‘But I don’t want it to turn into her, either.’

‘No, no, you misunderstand me,’ Professor Lupin smiled. ‘I wonder, could you tell me what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?’

Neville gave him a startled look, but described his grandmother’s tall, vulture-topped hat; her long, green dress; fox-fur scarf and big, red handbag.

‘Right, then. Can you picture the clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind’s eye?’

‘Yes.’

‘When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape. You will raise your wand and use the charm I just taught you, whilst concentrating on your grandmother’s clothes very hard. If all goes well, the Boggart will be forced into your grandmother’s clothes.’

The wardrobe began to wobble more violently.

‘If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to turn his attention to each of us in turn,’ said Professor Lupin. ‘I would like you all to take a moment to think of what scares you the most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…’

John thought about it and realised with a start that he had no idea what his worst fear was. The longer he thought, the more confused he got, so he turned to Sherlock and Castiel to ask what theirs were. Sherlock was frowning, deep in concentration, but Castiel was chalky white and trying to shrink into the corner of the room.

‘Everyone ready?’ said Professor Lupin.

John thought he couldn’t be less ready, but retreated back against the walls with the rest of the class, clearing a space for Neville to take on the Boggart.

‘On the count of three, Neville,’ said Lupin, pointing his wand at the handle of the wardrobe. ‘One – two – three - _now!’_

A jet of sparks hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open and out stepped Professor Snape, hook-nosed and menacing. Neville backed away, but pointed his wand.

‘R-r-riddikulus!’ he squeaked.

There was a noise like a whip-crack. Snape stumbled and suddenly he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress, a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture and a shiny, red bag was dangling from his arm.

There was a roar of laughter, the Boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, ‘Parvati! Forward!’

Parvati walked forward and there was another crack. Snape turned into a bloodstained, bandage mummy. It turned and began to shuffle slowly towards Parvati.

‘Riddikulus!’ she cried.

The mummy tripped on its own bandages and fell over, head rolling off, the Professor Lupin called up Seamus. The Boggart transformed into a Banshee, long black hair trailing on the ground. She let out an unearthly wailing scream, and Seamus shouted, ‘Riddikulus!’

The Banshee suddenly clutched her throat and stopped screaming. She had lost her voice.

‘Excellent, Seamus! John up next!’

John went up a little apprehensively. He had no idea what it would turn into, or how he would fight it. The voiceless Banshee surveyed him for a moment, then did something very strange. It melted to the ground and spread across the floorboards under his feet. It turned blue and formed the image of a ladder, stretching down through clouds and out of sight. It blew out a strong gale and John looked at Professor Lupin in confusion.

‘Professor, I think it’s already confused. This isn’t my biggest fear.’

Professor Lupin frowned

‘What is your biggest fear?’

‘Er, well I don’t know exactly, but it’s not this. This doesn’t scare me at all.’

‘Odd. Whose fear is this?’ Lupin asked, looking around the room. Sherlock raised his hand.

‘Mine,’ he said.

‘You might as well come up here.’

Sherlock approached and stood on the Boggart, next to John. He pointed his wand at it and said, ‘Riddikulus.’

It cracked and instead of a ladder, was showing them a tightrope directly beneath them. Sherlock swallowed hard.

‘It’s okay, you can do it,’ John said, rubbing has arm reassuringly. ‘Try again.’

Sherlock shook his head, took a deep breath and tried again. This time, the Boggart transformed ad they were stood on a low garden wall, less than a foot off the ground and a pleasant breeze wafted around them.

‘Nice,’ John grinned.

‘Well done! Castiel!’

Castiel didn’t move, but someone pushed him and he stumbled forwards. He was barely able to hold his wand in his trembling hand and whimpered as the Boggart began to change shape. It finished transforming and a man stood before him. He looked like Gabriel, only much older and face twisted in fury. Castiel took a step backwards but raised his wand.

‘Riddikulus!’ he cried. The man disappeared, but was replaced by a tall, attractive woman with dark hair and blue eyes. She fixed Castiel with a disappointed and betrayed look. He dropped his wand and stared at her in horror. Slowly, she closed her eyes and sighed, then suddenly burst into flames. Castiel cried out and fell over, scrambling backwards as the flaming Boggart stepped towards him. Dean Thomas jumped in between them and the woman immediately became a severed hand, flopping on the ground. Castiel sat, dazed for a moment, then fled from the room, running until he found himself in a bathroom, retching over a toilet. He regained some control and managed to get over to a sink. He splashed cold water over his face and let it run over his hands for a minute. Then he sunk to the ground, brought his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms. He didn’t know how long he was there but after a while, he heard footsteps approaching. He didn’t lift his head to look, even when they stopped right in front of him. He’d assumed it was either Sherlock or John, so was surprised when he heard an unfamiliar, American voice.

‘Hey, are you all right?’ he asked.

Castiel didn’t move, but the boy didn’t leave. Instead, he sat down beside Castiel.

‘Bad lesson, huh?’ he said. ‘Was it Potions? I hate Potions.’

‘Defence Against the Dark Arts,’ Castiel mumbled, still without looking up. ‘A Boggart.’

‘Aw, man, those suck,’ the boy said. ‘Wait a minute, was that a US accent I heard?’

‘Yes.’

‘Awesome! I’m from Kansas. You?’

‘Wisconsin.’

‘Ah, well, nobody’s perfect. What’re you doing here, man?’

‘Dual nationality.’

‘No way! I’m here ‘cause of my dad. We got special permission for protection, or whatever. I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester.’

Castiel finally looked up and saw Dean. Light hair, sparkling green eyes and an outstretched hand.

‘Hello, Dean,’ Castiel said, shaking his hand.

Dean waited for a second for Castiel to introduce himself, then stretched and stood up when he didn’t.

‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘Yeah, you’re one of those guys that hangs out with that Harry Potter kid. I don’t really know him, but apparently he’s like a big deal here.’

‘He’s nice,’ said Castiel.

‘Well, anyway, we’d better get back. I’m supposed to be in Charms right now. I hate Charms,’ Dean grinned. ‘I can take you back to Professor Lupin if you want. You should probably let him know you’re okay.’

Castiel got shakily to his feet and together they walked back to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the others having already finished in the staff room.

‘Ah, I did wonder where you’d gone,’ he said, smiling. ‘Thank you for bringing him back, Dean. I’ll be sure to let Professor Flitwick know that you were assisting me this lesson.’

‘Really? Sweet! Thanks, Prof!’

‘You’re very welcome.’

‘Cool.’

He made to leave, but Castiel stopped him.

‘Dean, wait. I’m-‘ he clamped his mouth shut.

Dean looked at him curiously.

‘I’m – I’m… I am Castiel.’

‘Oh, well, nice to meet you, Castiel.’

Castiel gave a faint smile.

‘All right, you’re in our common room enough, so I’ll probably see you later.’

‘Goodbye, Dean.’

And with that, he left the room. Professor Lupin then gave Castiel a very serious look.

‘I’m not going to ask you about your Boggart, Castiel,’ he said. ‘I am, however, going to warn you that there will be one in the exam and you are very welcome to come and practice any time you like.’

‘Thank you, Professor.’

‘I’m trusting you not to tell anyone else about the exam, okay?’

‘I won’t.’

‘Good. Oh, and Castiel?’

‘Yes?’

‘Your wand,’ Lupin smiled, handing him the wand he’d dropped in the staff room.

‘Thank you.’

‘Now, off you go to dinner.

Castiel sat quietly at the dinner table, listening to everyone talking about Professor Lupin and the Boggart, and felt sure he’d fail the exam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to hhhelcat


	5. Flight of the Fat Lady

Flight of the Fat Lady

October came around, along with the Quidditch season. Harry returned one evening from a particularly good practice, and sat down next to Ron. He was copying out Castiel’s extremely precise star chart that they had been asked to do for Astronomy. Hermione was watching him disapprovingly and Sherlock was attempting to teach John how to play chess, though he kept getting caught up in winning rather than teaching.

‘Oh, Harry guess what?’ Ron said, looking up. ‘Hogsmeade weekend on Hallowe’en. You coming?’

‘I don’t think he should,’ Hermione frowned. ‘With Black still on the loose.’

‘Black’s not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade. Ask McGonagall if you can go.’

‘ _Ron!_ Harry’s supposed to stay _in school.’_

Just then, a hand reached out and picked up Castiel’s star chart interrupting them.

‘Hey, this is a nice chart,’ he said. ‘Whose is it?’

It was Dean Winchester.

‘Mine,’ said Castiel.

‘Damn, this thing is pretty much perfect. Oh hey, it’s you!’

‘Yes, Dean.’

‘Smooth,’ John sniggered.

‘And you are?’ said Dean.

‘John Watson,’ he said, shaking Dean’s hand.

‘ _Winchester?’_ Hermione said, suddenly interested.

‘Yep, that’s the one.’

He looked around and saw them all staring at him.

‘What, we gotta go around the circle now?’ he said. ‘Fine, why don’t you go first,’ he said to Hermione.

‘Hermione Granger.’

‘Ron Weasley.’

‘Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Harry Potter.’

He shook each of their hands in turn.

‘Cool, now that that’s over with, can I borrow your star chart?’ he said to Castiel.

‘Yes.’

Dean grinned and sat down next to him, pulling quills and a half-completed star chart from his bag.

‘How do you know Castiel?’ Hermione asked.

‘Long story. We met in a bathroom. It was a little awkward ‘cause I was trying to skip Charms without anyone noticing.’

Hermione bit her lip, fighting the impulse to tell him off.

‘You guys are third years, right? It’ll be your first trip to Hogsmeade coming up?’

‘Yeah, but Harry can’t go. He doesn’t have permission.’ said Ron.

‘ _Permission?_ What are you guys, eight? Just sneak out, duh. Fred and George could probably help you out.’

Hermione couldn’t resist any longer.

‘You don’t understand, Dean. Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban to come after Harry.’

‘Sirius Black? Well, that changes everything.’

‘Really?’

‘No, not at all. I have no idea who that is.’

Harry seemed unconvinced.

‘I think I’ll just ask McGonagall for permission.’ he said.

‘That’s fair enough.’

Dean sat quietly for a moment, copying the star chart.

‘What year are you in, Dean?’ Hermione asked curiously.

‘Fourth,’ he said, bending over to look at the chart more closely.

He finished with a flourish and threw his chart and quill unceremoniously into his bag.

‘Awesome, thanks.’

He jumped up and walked away without another word, just missing Crookshanks springing after Scabbers once again.

 

Hallowe’en morning rolled around and John was the first downstairs. He waited for Sherlock, Castiel, Ron and Hermione. Harry had not managed to get permission from Professor McGonagall, so they said goodbye to him and filed past Filch, who was checking people off a long list of names. Castiel was excited to see the village until he remembered what was waiting at the gates. He got half way across the grounds and felt his palms get sweaty. His mouth went dry and he stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the Dementors on guard. He tried to back away but bumped into someone, whirling around and vaguely recognised Dean, though his vision was blurry and panic was surging through him.

‘Whoa, whoa, it’s just me,’ said Dean.

He was unresponsive, however, so Dean grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him away from the line of students trying to leave.

‘No! No!’ Castiel said, tearing himself out of Dean’s grasp.

‘All right, no touching,’ said Dean, taking his hands away. ‘Can you look at me? We’re going to try something.’

Castiel, barely breathing, forced himself to meet Dean’s eyes.

‘That’s good. Really good. Just do what I do, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine, you just gotta trust me.’

Dean adjusted his stance until his legs were shoulder distance apart, and had Castiel do the same.

‘Okay, what we’re going to do is take a deep breath to the count of four,’ he said slowly and calmly. ‘Then we’re going to hold it for four, breath out for four and hold it again for four. I’ll do it too and I’ll count with my fingers. Ready?’

It took a few attempts, but finally Dean managed to get him breathing in a more regular rhythm.

‘How did you do that?’ Castiel asked, feeling a lot calmer.

‘My little brother used to get panic attacks a lot. It works for him, so I thought I’d try it with you,’ Dean smiled.

He noticed that the others were hovering a little way up the path.

‘You guys go ahead. We’re right behind you.’

He waved them on and turned back to Castiel.

‘Do you still want to go? You don’t have to.’

Castiel considered it.

‘I do want to go.’

‘Okay, then stick with me and you’ll be just fine.’

Castiel walked to the gate, but slowed again then felt Dean’s arms around his shoulders

‘Is this ok?’ Dean asked.

Castiel nodded and closed his eyes, allowing Dean to guide him. He shuddered as he felt the Dementors’ chill wash over him.

‘Tell me about your brother,’ he said.

‘His name’s Sam and he’s starting here next year. He’s super excited, the little nerd,’ Dean chuckled.

As they passed the Dementors, Castiel’s knees gave way and he felt quite weak, but Dean held him up and helped him walk until he recovered enough to stand for himself.

‘Stop,’ he said.

Dean let go and they stood to the side for a minute. Dean also pulled some chocolate out of his pocket and shared it with Castiel.

‘Man, those Dementors,’ he said.

‘What about them?’

‘Well they _suck.’_

Castiel then noticed that Dean was shaking ever so slightly.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.’ He stuffed the block of chocolate in his mouth. ‘Come on, let’s go get some drinks. Any idea where your friends are?’

‘We’ll probably find Ron in Honeydukes.’

‘Sounds like my kind of guy. I like him already.’

They did indeed find Ron in Honeydukes, packing his bag with as many sweets as he could while Hermione watched him with a mixture of impatience and disgust.

‘Where are Sherlock and John?’ Castiel asked.

‘Dunno,’ said Ron, staring greedily around the room to see if there was anything else he wanted.

‘Sugar Quills,’ said Dean, handing Ron one. ‘Trust me.’

Finally Ron was finished and they made their way over to the Three Broomsticks, where they found John and Sherlock. John was looking particularly irritated and Sherlock quite smug.

‘What’s up?’ said Ron as they sat down.

‘ _Someone_ decided that he wanted to sneak into the Hog’s Head while it was hosting a vampire meeting,’ John told them.

‘It was very informative.’

‘I swear to _God,_ Sherlock, I will kill you.’

Dean then spotted the barmaid, Madam Rosmerta.

‘I’ll go get some drinks,’ he said, fixing his hair before approaching her.

Castiel watched Dean lean casually against the bar and confidently get Madam Rosmerta’s attention. Then he came back to their table, leading Madam Rosmerta with a tray of drinks.

‘All right, Butterbeers for everyone,’ he said, passing them out. ‘Who’s had it before?’

Only Sherlock and Ron had.

‘You guys are gonna love it.’

They all took a sip and made sounds of enjoyment, except Castiel who, after his first sip, downed the whole glass in one go.

‘Wow, you like it, huh?’

‘It is good.’

‘So, no Harry then?’

‘McGonagall said no,’ Hermione told him.

‘Pfft, amateur.’

‘Dean, Sirius Black is extremely dangerous. I don’t believe that it would be safe for Harry to leave the school without someone in authority knowing,’ said Castiel.

Dean’s expression clouded over.

‘He really that bad?’

‘Yes.’

Dean thought for a minute.

‘We’ll just have to figure something out. There’s no way we can let him miss out on all this.’

‘I don’t think he’ll be able to come until they catch Black,’ said Hermione.

‘If the dude escaped Azkaban, how likely are they to catch him? I say we just bring Harry anyway.’

‘You’re being really irresponsible.’

‘What are you talking about? Responsible is my middle name. I’m just being responsible for the survival of Harry’s social life.’

‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘Can you stop? You’re giving me a headache,’ John interjected.

‘Are you always this much of a buzzkill?’

‘Are you always this much of an idiot?’ Sherlock snapped.

‘Hey!’

_‘Stop!’_

John closed his eyes and sighed.

‘Hermione, Harry has an Invisibility Cloak,’ he said.

‘He does? Awesome, problem solved!’ Dean grinned.

‘Invisibility Cloaks don’t work on Dementors, though,’ Hermione said.

‘That is not a problem. There are plenty of secret passages out of the castle, just ask Fred and George.’

‘Great, now that’s sorted, can we go now?’ John said irritably before stomping out.

‘What’s his problem?’ said Dean.

 

Later on, they went back up to the common room and rained sweets down on Harry. John felt hot and still very irritated. He was twitchy all evening and felt as if his nerves were on fire, so he sat in the quietest corner possible. He couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, but followed them out when they got up for the Hallowe’en feast. The Great Hall was filled with floating pumpkins, candles and live bats flying around their heads. The food was just as good as it always was and even John managed to enjoy it when his bad mood suddenly disappeared just before dessert. Finally it was time for bed. They said goodnight to Sherlock and Castiel, and made their way up to Gryffindor Tower. When they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, however, they found it completely blocked off by confused students.

‘What’s going on?’ said Ron. ‘They can’t all have forgotten the password.’

‘Let me through, please,’ came Percy’s voice as he shoved his way through the crowd. ‘What’s the hold up here? Excuse me, I’m Head Boy-‘

A silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, and John shuddered as a chill settled over the corridor.

‘Someone get Professor Dumbledore,’ Percy said sharply. ‘Quick.’

Next moment, Dumbledore was there, sweeping towards the portrait. John peeked through the gap in the crowd left by Dumbledore and his stomach dropped. He heard Hermione gasp beside him.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor. Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, eyes sombre, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin and Snape hurrying towards him.

‘We need to find her,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady.’

‘You’ll be lucky!’ said a cackling voice.

It was Peeves the poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd looking delighted.

‘What do you mean, Peeves?’ said Dumbledore calmly.

Peeves’s grin faded. He didn’t dare taunt Dumbledore, so instead adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle.

‘Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn’t want to be seen. She’s a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape down on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful,’ he said happily. ‘Poor thing,’ he added unconvincingly.

‘Did she say who did it?’

‘Oh yes, Professorhead,’ Peeves grinned. ‘He got very angry when she wouldn’t let him in, you see. Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to UnicornofFlames, hhhelcat and theforestprincex for the comments and I hope you all have a lovely day.


	6. Grim Defeat

Grim Defeat

Professor Dumbledore sent them all back to the Great Hall, where they were joined minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Castiel and Sherlock hurried over to them, Castiel shivering in his pajamas.

'What happened?' Sherlock asked.

'Sirius Black broke in,' Dean told him, handing Castiel his cloak. 'He attacked the Fat Lady.'

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat to get their attention. 'The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle,' he announced as Professors McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick closed all the doors. 'I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances, and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbances should be reported to me immediately,' he added to Percy. 'Send word with one of the ghosts.' He paused, about to leave the Hall. 'Oh, yes, you'll be needing…' He waved his wand and the long house tables flew to the edges of the Hall, and propped themselves against the walls. He waved again and conjured hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags. 'Sleep well,' he said, closing the door behind him.

'Everyone in their sleeping bags!' shouted Percy. 'Lights out in ten minutes!'

The group, now comprised of five Gryffindors and two Ravenclaws, grabbed a sleeping bag each and dragged them to a quiet corner of the room. Gabriel then appeared beside them.

'Hey, are you okay?' he said to Castiel.

'I'm fine, Gabriel. I wasn't there.'

'That's good,' said Gabriel, relieved. 'Who's this?' he said, spotting Dean.

'I'm Dean Winchester,' said Dean, shaking Gabriel's hand.

'Nice to meet you, Dean. I'm Gabriel, Castiel's brother.'

Just then Percy came over. 'Gabriel, can you guard the main doors with Sally?'

'Of course,' said Gabriel. 'See you guys later.'

'I told you it was dangerous,' Hermione said to Dean once Percy left. 'Harry definitely shouldn't sneak out now.'

Dean looked at her incredulously. 'Are you serious? Are you really using the break in of a mass murderer to make a point?'

Hermione's mouth fell open.

'You're smart, Hermione, but you really need to learn how to read a room.'

Ron, who was angry about another attempt to eat Scabbers by Crookshanks, agreed wholeheartedly.

'What I want to know is how he got in,' Dean added, and he wasn't the only. The question that no one had an answer to reverberated around the room.

'He didn't apparate or fly in. We know that much,' said Sherlock.

'We do?' said John.

'Yes. There are enchantments around the grounds prohibiting anyone from entering via apparition or broomstick. And obviously he didn't come in through the main entrance. Not with the Dementors.'

'But didn't he get past the Dementors at Azkaban? Can't he just do that again?' said Dean.

Hermione, although a little upset about Dean telling her off, was just pleased that he was now taking the situation seriously. 'However it was that he did it, that's his only option at this point,' she said.

'The lights are going out now!' Percy shouted. 'I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!'

The candles all went out at once and the only light came from the silvery ghosts gliding around the room. Dean turned around in his sleeping bag to look at Castiel.

'Hey, are you okay?' he hissed.

'Yes, Dean. Go to sleep.'

'Aren't you scared?'

'No. We're safe in here.'

'Oh yeah, you're totally right. Yeah, me neither.'

'Dean?'

'Yeah?'

'Are you afraid?'

'What? No, of course not. Why would I be afraid?'

'Dean.'

'Well, yeah, kinda.'

'We are safe, Dean. No one can get in here, especially not past Gabriel.'

'He really that good?'

'Yes.'

'All right, then.'

'Goodnight, Dean.'

Dean eventually fell asleep with Castiel watching, still wrapped in his cloak.

For the next few days, Sirius Black was the only topic of conversation among the students. The Fat Lady's canvas was taken away, replaced by the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat, grey pony. No one was happy about this, as he spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest making up ridiculously complicated passwords that he changed at least twice a day. Unfortunately, none of the other portraits wanted the job, so it went to Sir Cadogan, the only one brave enough to volunteer. The talk of Sirius Black died down, however, as the Quidditch season drew nearer. The weather grew steadily worse, but this did not stop Oliver Wood from calling training sessions as often as possible, though under the watch of Madam Hooch, who had been tasked with keeping an eye on Harry. Despite the weather, practices were going extremely well until their last practice before the first match.

'Bad news,' said Wood, looking very angry. 'I've just seen Flint. We're playing Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin.'

'They can't do that!' exclaimed Fred. 'We haven't been training to play Hufflepuff!'

'I know. They're blaming it on their Seeker still being unfit to play,' Wood said bitterly. 'It's a load of rubbish, but there's nothing we can do about it now.' He turned to Harry. 'Harry, their Seeker is Cedric Diggory. He's very good, so are you sure I can't convince you to try out the Two Thousand and One?'

'It's a bit late now, Oliver,' Harry said, thunder rolled in the distance. 'If the weather's like this on Saturday, I'd rather be on a broom I trust.'

'All right, then. I trust you, so don't let me down.'

The day before the match was uneventful, if frustrating, with the Slytherins pretending to be upset about not being able to play.

'If only my arm was feeling better,' Malfoy sighed as a gale pounded outside.

Oliver Wood had also took to following Harry around, giving him advice and tips, and making him late for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Unfortunately, Professor Lupin was out due to sickness, so they were stuck with Snape. So, on top of being late, Harry lost ten house points and Snape set them an incredibly difficult essay to write on werewolves, knowing full well that they were nowhere near covering them yet. Ron ended up with a detention to scrub the hospital wing bed pans without magic.

'I always keep them clean, anyway,' said Castiel when he found out. 'It shouldn't be too difficult.'

At last, it was match day. Harry went off with the team and the rest of them went to find seats in the stands. The wind was ferocious and pushed them sideways as they walked. Dean ran out to walk alongside them and all of them were soaked through within seconds of leaving the castle.

'I don't know how Harry's gonna see the Snitch through this!' Dean yelled over the wind.

'At least we'll be able to see what's going on,' said Castiel.

Before Dean could ask why, Castiel's wand was in his face.

' _Impervius!'_ he said.

Suddenly, Dean's face stopped dripping and he could see Castiel, hair plastered to his face, quite clearly.

'Oh, cool, thanks!'

Hermione also cast a charm that kept them warm, despite the sheeting rain. They settled in the seats at the front just as the teams walked out onto the pitch. Wood shook hands with Cedric Diggory, captain of the Hufflepuff team, and both teams took off. They Gryffindor Chasers easily outstripped the Hufflepuffs, but as the match went on, it was clear that Harry couldn't see anything. Wood signalled for a time out and the team landed. Hermione jumped down to cast the Impervius Charm on Harry's glasses. The team took off again, and this time Harry didn't look as if he was flying around aimlessly. Cedric saw the Snitch first, however, and it took Harry a moment to notice him pelting after the tiny gold speck. They all stood up to see better and to cheer Harry on, then suddenly an eerie silence fell over the stadium. Though the wind was as strong as ever, the roar had disappeared. The blood in Castiel's limbs turned to ice and as a hundred Dementors floated out onto the pitch, a loud bang pounded his ears, followed by a terrible scream. Dean caught him just before he hit the ground.

The Dementors also caused Harry to fall from his broom fifty feet in the air, and the crowd gasped and screamed. Dumbledore marched out onto the pitch and cast a spell to slow Harry's fall, then did the same spell they'd seen Lupin do on the train and chased the Dementors away with a silvery light from his wand. Dean managed to shake Castiel awake as the Dementors flew out, and just in time to see Harry hit the ground. It took a moment for Castiel to understand what was happening, but when he did, he vaulted the barrier, down to the pitch.

'Cas, wait!' said Dean, jumping after him.

Castiel slid to his knees beside Harry and immediately began running his wand over Harry's body. Every few seconds, however, he had to stop to shake the water out of his hair. He got frustrated with it, so pointed his wand straight up in the air and shouted ' _Impervius!'_

Dean looked up in wonder as a barrier formed over them, preventing the rain from falling on them at all.

Dumbledore approached Harry and raised his wand to conjure a stretcher, but Castiel stopped him.

'With all due respect, sir, I must determine whether or not his spine is intact. He must not be move until I've done so,' he said.

So Dumbledore waited patiently until Castiel gave him the go ahead. He stretchered Harry away, followed by the team, and the students emptied the stands.

'That was amazing!' Dean said to Castiel.

'Thank you,' he mumbled.

Just then, Ron, Hermione, John and Sherlock ran over.

'Diggory caught the Snitch,' Ron said. 'We lost the match.'

'Right, like that's our biggest concern. You guys should see if you can find Harry's broom,' said Dean, squinting at the sky.

Ron and Hermione left to find it and Castiel took on a slightly grey pallor.

'What's wrong?' said John.

'I- I can't get up.'

His eyes rolled back and he slumped over. Dean sighed.

'Either of you know how to do that stretcher spell?'

John and Sherlock shook their heads.

'Damn. You guys want to help me carry him?'

Dean reached down and frowned.

'Actually, I got him. He's pretty light.'

When they got to the hospital wing, the whole Gryffindor team, minus Wood, were crowded around Harry's bed.

'What happened?' said Madam Pomfrey as Dean lowered Castiel onto a bed.

'I'm not sure,' said Dean.

'The Dementors make him pass out, don't they?' said John.

'Well, yeah, but they were already gone.'

Madam Pomfrey felt Castiel's forehead. 'He's been under a lot of stress lately,' she told them. 'He hasn't been eating or sleeping much and human bodies can only handle so much.'

'So what, like exhaustion?'

'Yes, I'd say so. He just needs some rest.'

Just then, Hermione and Ron returned, accompanied by Cedric Diggory. Hermione was carrying a bag full of splintered wood and twigs.

'Oh, man,' said Dean. 'Is that-'

'Harry's Nimbus? Yeah,' Ron said grimly. 'It blew into the Whomping Willow and Professor Flitwick had to get it back.'

They went to sit with the rest of the team and Cedric approached hesitantly.

'Is he okay?' he asked hoarsely.

'Madam Pomfrey says he'll be fine,' Fred told him.

'Listen, I tried to get a rematch-'

'It's fine,' Angelina Johnson interrupted. 'You caught the Snitch before Harry fell. Hufflepuff won fair and square.'

'I- well, I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault. Really. Thanks for coming to see us.'

Cedric nodded and backed out of the room. Not long after Cedric left, Harry woke up. They broke the news to him about both the match and his broom, and Dean pulled Sherlock aside.

'Hey, you saw that crazy magic Cas did, right?' he whispered. 'Have you ever seen him do anything like that before?'

Sherlock glanced over at Castiel. 'Not personally, but Hermione told me that he cast a particularly powerful Lumos charm in our first year.'

'So that kind of thing is normal for him?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'He's always been one of the more powerful wizards I've met, but this… Honestly, Dean, I didn't know you could even do that with the Impervius Charm. It's only supposed to be cast on objects, but he cast it in the air.'

'What does that mean?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'I supposed it means he's likely to have a few more surprises in store for us.'

Sherlock gave the slumbering Castiel a fleeting, curious look, then left with John when Madam Pomfrey ushered them and the Gryffindor team out of the ward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to cypress7, theforestprincex and hhhelcat for the comments.


	7. The Marauder's Map

The Marauder's Map

Castiel woke up the next morning across from an extremely glum Harry. They smiled faintly at each other, but neither felt like saying much. Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping them both overnight. Harry left as soon as he could on Sunday morning but Castiel stayed behind, curled up in his bed until Dean came to find him.

'What're you still doing in here, man? Harry left hours ago.'

Castiel shrugged.

'Are you okay?' Dean waited patiently for an answer.

'I don't understand,' he said. 'Why do the Dementors affect me so badly?'

Dean grimaced and sat down on the bed. 'Thing about Dementors is the worst, and I mean _the worst_ , magical creatures in the world. Like, even No-Maj's can feel 'em. They suck out all your happy memories and good feelings and stuff.'

'Have you seen them before?'

'Yeah. It wasn't fun. They make you relive your worst memories. We all know why they affect Harry so bad, heck I'd be more surprised if they didn't. The question is, what happened to you?'

Cas bit his lip and rubbed his arm.

'I was in a potion accident,' he said quietly. I survived with some – scars. My mother did not.'

'Wow. I'm sorry, man,' Dean said sympathetically.

'When they come near me, I hear her screaming. I hear myself and I can smell the burning-' He cut himself off with a shake of his head.

Dean looked at him for a moment. 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours.'

'What?'

Dean put his foot up on the bed and lifted up his trouser leg. A burn scar snaked up his calf and stopped just before his knee. 'Azazel set fire to our house when he was trying to kidnap my brother and me. I got Sam out and picked up these gnarly scars but my mom didn't make it.'

'I'm sorry, Dean.'

'Don't be. It was a long time ago,' he said, putting his foot back on the ground. 'Your turn.'

Cas unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and rolled it up. He felt much more comfortable showing it to Dean than he expected.

Dean whistled at it. 'How far up does that go?'

Cas patted the top of his shoulder, then buttoned his sleeve back up.

'You don't like showing it off, huh?'

'No.'

'That's a shame. It scores ya all kindsa brownie points with the ladies,' Dean winked. 'Mine does.'

'I don't understand. Hermione and Ginny already like me.'

'Oh boy, do you have a lot to learn,' Dean smiled. 'Are you coming down to lunch, or are you just gonna mope around here all day.'

Cas nodded. 'I'll come.'

'So, who have you told about that?' Dean asked as they left.

'Just you and John.'

'John? Really? Not Sherlock or Hermione?'

'No, why?'

'You just seem closer to them than John.'

'He's a lot easier to talk to than Sherlock and Hermione is very busy.'

'You know, that makes sense,' Dean grinned.

The violent weather of November faded into a chilly haze of rain that persisted well into December. Wood regained some of his manic energy when Ravenclaw's defeat of Hufflepuff put Gryffindor back in the running for the Quidditch Cup. He worked the team as hard as possible, and two weeks before the end of term, the sky lightened over the newly frosted grounds. A Christmas buzz filled the air, Professor Flitwick immediately decorated his classroom, and everyone began talking about their holiday plans. Castiel was going home, as were Dean and Hermione, but everyone else had decide to stay for the holidays.

They were all surprised by another Hogsmeade trip on the last day of term. Harry resigned himself to not being able to go and decided to look through some magazines for a new broom. The spare Gryffindor Nimbus Two Thousand and One was suitable enough, but Harry felt uncomfortable on it and thought that he should have his own.

The morning of the Hogsmeade trip found a very determined Castiel and a twitchy John.

'You ready?' Dean asked Cas.

'Didn't you already say that?' said John.

'Uh, no?'

'I swear you did,' John frowned.

'Yeah, okay, let's go.'

In his determination to not let them affect him anymore, Cas attempted to march past them alone. Fortunately, Dean was close enough to catch him when his knee failed. They made their first stop at Honeydukes, where they tried to find more sweets that Harry hadn't tried yet. Ron saw a sign in a corner that read 'Unusual Tastes' and dragged them over to it. The shop was extremely crowded and they had to squash in beside a group of sixth years to get a good look at the odd sweets. Ron immediately a jar.

'Blood pops?' Dean said, wrinkling his nose.

'Urgh, no, Harry won't want those,' said Hermione, 'they're for vampires.'

'Fine,' said Ron. 'What about these?'

He grabbed a jar full of Cockroach Clusters and shoved it right under Hermione's nose.

'Definitely not,' said a voice.

Ron nearly dropped the jar as Harry appeared behind them.

'Harry!' Dean said delightedly. 'You grew a pair!'

'How did you get in here?' Sherlock asked.

Harry dropped his voice so that none of the other students could hear him. 'Fred and George gave me this map,' he told them. 'It shows Hogwarts and all the secret passages. It even shows everyone walking around and stuff!'

'That is so cool!' said Dean.

'How come they never gave it to me!' said Ron, outraged. 'I'm their brother.'

'But Harry isn't going to keep it!' said Hermione. 'He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?'

'No, I'm not!' said Harry.

'Are you crazy?' said Dean.

'If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it.'

'But what about Sirius Black?' Hermione hissed. 'He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle!'

Dean put his arm around Hermione. 'Come on, lighten up, Hermione!' he said. 'It's Christmas!'

Hermione hesitated.

'Are you going to report me?' Harry asked her.

'Oh, of course not, but honestly, Harry-'

'Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?' Ron interrupted, grabbing him and taking him over to the barrel.

'Where are John and Sherlock?' said Cas.

Hermione looked around and frowned. 'They did this last time too. They're probably up at the Three Broomsticks,' she said.

'Let's pay for this and go,' said Ron.

'I'm telling you, something's up with that John kid,' Dean muttered to Cas on their way out.

They arrived at the warm, noisy bar and found John and Sherlock waiting there with a table and Ron went off to get drinks as they all sat down. Once he returned, a breeze riffled through the bar and Harry choked on his Butterbeer at the sight of Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, Hagrid, and the Minister for Magic. Ron and Hermione shoved Harry under the table and Sherlock whispered ' _Mobiliarbus',_ gently lifting and moving the Christmas tree beside them until it blocked them from view. They sat completely still and silent while Madam Rosmerta brought over some drinks.

'Join us, why don't you, Rosmerta?' they heard Fudge say.

'Well, thank you very much, Minister.' She sat and she and the teachers complained about the Dementors to the Minister.

'A necessary precaution… unfortunate, but there you are,' he said uncomfortably. 'I've just met some and they're in a fury against Dumbledore – he won't let them inside the castle grounds.'

'I should think not,' McGonagall said sharply. 'How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around? I've had both Edlund boys collapse in my classroom because of them.'

Castiel turned slightly red, but was surprised to hear of Gabriel's troubles.

'They are here to protect you all from something far worse… we all know what Black's capable of…'

'I still don't believe it,' said Madam Rosmerta. 'I remember when he was a boy at Hogwarts. The last I would have thought to go over to the Dark side.'

'You don't know the half of it,' said Fudge. 'The worst he did is not widely known.'

'The worst? What could possibly be worse than murdering all those people?'

'You remember him at Hogwarts, so you will remember who his best friend was?'

'Of course,' she said, 'quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter.'

Sherlock sucked in a sharp breath and Ron kicked Harry under the table, who had dropped his tankard.

'Precisely,' McGonagall continued. 'I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers-'

'I dunno,' Hagrid chuckled. 'Fred and George Weasley could give them a run fer their money.'

'Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends,' Fudge explained. 'Black was the best man when he married Lily, then they named him Harry's godfather.' Fudge then dropped his voice. 'Not many people know that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after him. Dumbledore had a number of spies and one of them tipped him off. He advised them to go into hiding and, obviously You-Know-Who is not an easy man to hide from, so he told them that their best chance would be the Fidelius Charm. As long as the Secret Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could have spent years searching their village and never find them, not if his nose was pressed against their living-room window.'

'Dumbledore offered to be Secret Keeper himself, but James insisted that Black would rather die than reveal where they were,' said McGonagall.

'It was barely a week after the charm was performed before he betrayed them,' Fudge sighed sadly.

'Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!' Hagrid said loudly. 'I was the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James's house! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with that great slash across his forehead, an' Sirius Black turns up on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' the attack an' came ter see what he could do. White an' shakin' he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!' Hagrid roared.

'Hagrid, please!' McGonagall hushed.

'How was I ter know he wasn' upset about Lily an' James? It was You-Know-Who he cared about! He comes up to me and he says "Give Harry ter me, Hagrid. I'm his godfather, I'll look after him." But I had me orders from Dumbledore. _But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh?_ I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike half way out ter sea.'

A long silence followed.

'Well, he didn't manage to disappear,' said Madam Rosmerta. 'The Ministry caught up with him the next day.'

'Alas, if only we had,' Fudge said bitterly. 'It was not us who found him. 'It was little Peter Pettigrew, another one of Potter's friends. Maddened with grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been their Secret Keeper, he went after Black himself.'

'Pettigrew, that little fat boy who was always tagging around after them?' said Madam Rosmerta.

'Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,' said McGonagall. 'I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I- how I regret that now…'

'There now, Minerva, Pettigrew died a hero's death,' Fudge said kindly. 'Eye witnesses told us how he cornered Black. He even managed to pull his wand, but naturally Black was quicker. Blew him to smithereens…

'I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time and I was one of the first on the scene. I'll never forget it. The crater in the ground. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him… a heap of bloodstained robes and a few – a few fragments…

'Well, there you have it, Rosmerta. Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class. Black's been in Azkaban ever since.'

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh. 'Is it true he's mad, Minister?'

'I wish I could say he was,' Fudge said slowly. 'I met him on my last inspection of Azkaban. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored – asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, said he missed doing the crossword. I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him, and he was the most heavily guarded in the place.'

'But what do you think he's broken out to do?' said Madam Rosmerta. 'Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?'

'I daresay that is his – er – eventual plan,' Fudge said evasively. 'But we hope to catch him long before that.'

There was a small clunk of glass on wood.

'You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the Headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle,' said McGonagall.

They all headed out, once more letting snow flurry through the door while Madam Rosmerta returned to the bar.

Once they were gone, Ron and Hermione pulled Harry out from under the table and the rest of them found it difficult to meet his eyes. They silently agreed that it was time to leave and crept quietly out of the pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back and thanks again to cypress7, theforestprincex and hhhelcat. Hope to see you again soon.


	8. The Firebolt

The Firebolt

Harry went back through Honeydukes while the rest of them walked silently back to the castle.

‘That’s mental, that is,’ Ron said after a while.

‘You can say that again,’ Dean said with a slight nervous chuckle.

‘Nothing we didn’t already know, though,’ John grimaced.

‘What are you talking about?’ said Dean, stopping to look at him and causing the rest of them to stop with him.

‘We- we heard McGonagall talking about it with Dumbledore, remember? That night with the Fat Lady,’ John said haltingly.

‘That’s not-‘

Sherlock held a hand up to shush him. ‘That was just you and I,’ he said quickly. ‘No one else heard.’

‘Yeah but we told everyone after, didn’t we?’

‘We didn’t think it would be wise to let Harry know while Black is after him.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

‘We should go if we want to make it back in time for dinner.’

John shrugged. ‘All right.’ He moved forward and Sherlock let out a small sigh of relief, catching Castiel’s eye briefly before continuing on.’

 

After dinner, Dean coughed his way through the common room in which Fred and George had let off half a dozen dung bombs, to make sure all of his things were packed. On his way down, he stopped in to check on Harry, who had hidden himself away in the dormitory, and found John putting on his pyjamas.

‘He’s asleep,’ John said, gesturing at Harry’s bed, curtains closed.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Oh, I’ve just got a headache. Those dung bombs did not help. Might as well try to sleep it off.’

‘Yeah.’

John considered him for a moment. ‘You ever get the feeling that something bad’s going to happen?’

‘Sure, but I call that anxiety.’

‘So you think everything’s fine?’

‘Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?’

‘I don’t know, I just…’

‘Can’t shake the feeling?’

John nodded.

‘Well, not much advice I can give you but get some sleep. You look like you need it.’

‘Great, thanks,’ John said sarcastically.

‘Sorry, man,’ Dean snorted. ‘All right, well I’ll see you after Christmas then. Have a good one.’

John smiled at him as he left and tried to ignore the sense of foreboding collecting in the back of his head.

 

John woke up early the next morning and bedecked himself in as many layers as possible so that he could sit by the peaceful lake. He didn’t feel particularly hungry, so he watched the giant squid drift around under the thin surface ice while everyone else had breakfast. He was still there when all the students going home for the holidays streamed out of the castle, and didn’t move when Sherlock sat down beside him. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, feeling Sherlock’s warmth against his shoulder.

‘I could ask you the same question.’

‘I feel funny.’

‘In what way?’

He sighed and leaned into Sherlock. ‘It’s like I’m in a dream. Everything’s misty.’

They stayed that way for a while, keeping each other warm until they heard a flutter of wings. They looked up and saw an owl with a letter in its beak gliding over their heads.

‘Isn’t that Greg?’ said John, squinting.

He dropped the letter on Sherlock’s head.

‘It’s from Mycroft,’ Sherlock said.

John sat up as he heard Sherlock suck in a shocked gasp. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

Sherlock clenched his jaw. ‘Buckbeak has been sentenced to death. Mycroft was unable to block it. It seems he’s not quite as influential as he might like.’

John’s heart sank. ‘Hagrid’ll be devastated.’

‘There will be an appeal, but it’s unlikely to succeed. Mycroft says that Lucius Malfoy is pressing the issue.’

‘Of course he is. Come on, we should go check on Hagrid. He’ll have heard by now.’

They arrived at Hagrid’s and found Harry, Ron and Hermione already there, attempting to comfort him. They sat down quietly while Ron made a pot of tea.

Hagrid blew his nose on a tablecloth-sized handkerchief. ‘I can’ afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together,’ he was saying. ‘I’ve not bin meself lately. Worried about Buckbeak, an’ no one likin’ me lessons-‘

He was cut off by sounds of protest.

‘We like them!’ Hermione insisted.

‘Yeah, er, how are the Flobberworms?’ said Ron, attempting enthusiasm.

‘Dead,’ Hagrid said gloomily. ‘Too much lettuce.’

‘Oh no!’ said Ron, lip twitching.

Hagrid was quiet for a moment. ‘Thought o’ jus’ letting Buckbeak go an’ try ter make him fly away, but how d’yeh explain ter a Hippogriff it’s gotta go inter hidin’? Besides I’m- I’m scared o’ breaking the law…’ He looked up at them. ‘I don’ ever want ter go back ter Azkaban.’

 

The next day was spent rifling through stacks of books in the common room, trying to find anything that might help Hagrid. Sherlock paced the room, muttering and waving his hands around.

‘What’s he doing?’ said Ron.

‘He’s in his mind palace,’ John said, without looking up.

‘His _what?’_

‘It’s a memory trick… nothing in this book.’ He put it aside and picked up another one. ‘I thought you were going home, Hermione.’

She shrugged. ‘I couldn’t leave, not after Buckbeak’s sentence.’

‘Right.’

Their efforts were fruitless however, and by Christmas Eve, the cooking smells coming from the kitchens were distracting them far too much to be able to continue.

John woke up on Christmas morning with Sherlock’s elbow in his face. ‘Get off,’ he grunted shoving Sherlock away. He sat up and saw that Harry and Ron were already unwrapping their presents.

They each got a knitted jumper, mince pies, Christmas cake, and peanut brittle from Mrs Weasley, as well as an assortment of Honeydukes sweets from Castiel.

John and Sherlock exchanged gifts; an expandable brass spyglass with five different zoom settings for Sherlock, and an ugly old cap for John.

‘It’s got a charm on it that’s supposed to help you sleep. You don’t need to wear it to bed, you can just leave it out on your bedside table,’ Sherlock explained when John looked at him questioningly.

‘Oh, nice. Thanks.’

Just then, Harry pulled out a long, thin package.

‘What’s that?’ said Ron, stuffing his mouth with mince pies.

Harry opened it and Harry gasped as a sleek, gleaming broomstick rolled out.

‘I don’t believe it,’ Ron said hoarsely. ‘A Firebolt!’

‘I saw that in Diagon Alley,’ said John. ‘Isn’t it-‘

‘The best broom in the world,’ Ron said in a hushed voice. ‘Who sent it to you?’

‘Look and see if there’s a card,’ said Harry.

Ron ripped apart the wrappings, but there was nothing. As he and Harry debated on who might have sent it, John sat very still, staring at the broom. He heard Sherlock’s voice, muffled, beside him. ‘What?’

‘I said, do you have any ideas?’

‘N-no.’

‘You don’t sound very sure of that.’

‘No. No ideas.’

Hermione then came in in her dressing gown, carrying Crookshanks.

‘Don’t bring him in here!’ said Ron, snatching Scabbers up from the bed.

‘Oh, Harry, who sent you _that?’_ she said, ignoring Ron and dropping Crookshanks on Seamus’s empty bed.

‘No idea,’ said Harry. ‘There wasn’t a car or anything with it.’

‘What’s the matter?’ said Ron, as her face fell.

Before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus’s bed, right at the Scabbers-shaped lump in Ron’s pocket.

‘GET-HIM-OUT-OF-HERE.’ Ron bellowed, aiming a kick at Crookshanks.

Hermione grabbed Crookshanks and strode indignantly out of the room, while Ron cradled Scabbers in his hands.

John looked at him with an overwhelming sense of disgust. His fur was patchy and he was skinnier than he’d ever been.

‘It’s not contagious, you know,’ Ron frowned, catching John’s expression.

‘Sorry.’

At lunchtime, they went down to the Great Hall to find the house tables had once again been waved against the walls. A single table set for twelve stood in the middle of the room, with Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick, as well as Filch, sat along it. The only other student was an extremely nervous-looking first-year.

‘Merry Christmas!’ said Dumbledore as they approached the table. ‘As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the house tables… Sit down, sit down!’

They all sat along the table, facing the teachers.

‘Crackers!’ Dumbledore said enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver one to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged.

The crackers went off and when they were all done, the dinner was served.

As John was pouring a liberal amount of gravy onto his plate, the doors of the Great Hall opened and Professor Trelawney glided in.

‘Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise,’ said Dumbledore, standing up.

‘I have been crystal-gazing, Headmaster,’ she said in her mistiest, most faraway voice, ‘and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you forgive my lateness…’

‘Certainly, certainly,’ said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling. ‘Let me draw you up a chair-‘

He did indeed draw a chair in mid-air with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud, across the table from John.

Professor Trelawney did not, however, sit down. Her magnified eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream. ‘I dare not, Headmaster! If I join you at the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine, the first to rise will be the first to die!’

‘We’ll risk it, Sybill,’ Professor McGonagall said impatiently. ‘Do sit down, the turkey’s getting cold.’

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table.

‘Tripe, Sybill?’ said Professor McGonagall.

Professor Trelawney ignored her. Opening her eyes, she looked around the table once more and said, ‘But where is dear Professor Lupin?’

‘I’m afraid the poor fellow is ill again,’ said Dumbledore, indicating to everyone that they should continue serving themselves. ‘Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day.’

‘But surely you already knew that, Sybill?’ said Professor McGonagall, eyebrows raised.

Professor Trelawney gave her a very cold look. ‘Certainly I knew, Minerva,’ she said quietly. ‘But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous.’

‘That explains a great deal,’ Professor McGonagall said tartly.

Professor Trelawney’s voice suddenly became a good deal less misty. ‘If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal-gaze for him-‘

‘Imagine that,’ Professor McGonagall said drily.

‘I doubt,’ said Dumbledore, in a cheery but slightly raised voice, putting an end to the conversation, ‘that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you made the Potion for him again?’

‘Yes, Headmaster,’ said Snape.

‘Good,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Then he should be up and about in no time… How are you getting on, John? I don’t believe we’ve spoken in a while.’

‘Oh, er, yeah, I’m getting on all right,’ John said, clearing his throat. ‘A few weird moments of déjà vu lately, but nothing too serious.’

‘That’s just a side effect of being a Seer, dear,’ said Professor Trelawney. ‘It happens to me quite often.’

Sherlock choked on a slice of turkey.

‘Excuse me?’ said John.

‘John, can I speak to you outside?’ Sherlock said quickly.

‘Goodness, my boy, were you not aware of your powers? I’ve been sensing your presence since ever since you set foot in the castle.’

‘John.’

John stared at her a moment, then a smile spread across his face. ‘I get it, this is a joke. Good one, Professor.’

Professor Trelawney looked highly offended. ‘Having the Sight is no joke!’ she said. ‘It is a great gift and burden. You would do well to hone your skills, especially at your level of power.’

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘ _John!’_

 _‘What,_ Sherlock?’

‘I need to speak to you. Outside. Now.’

‘Okay, okay, keep your hair on.’

They rose from the table and Professor Trelawney shrieked loudly. ‘My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?’

John looked at her, bewildered.

‘I doubt it will make much difference,’ said McGonagall coldly. ‘Unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall.’

Harry, Ron and Hermione sniggered while Sherlock and John slipped out of the doors.

‘Do you believe that?’ John said, chuckling. ‘The woman’s mad.’ He caught sight of Sherlock’s serious expression. ‘You don’t believe her, do you?’

‘Well-‘

‘Oh, come on, Sherlock, she’s obviously lost the plot. She’s been telling Harry he’s going to die a horrible death all term.

‘Yes, however that doesn’t necessarily mean that she is wrong. About you.’

‘I’m not playing this game, Sherlock,’ John said, losing his temper. ‘Stop messing me about. I’m not a bloody Seer.’

Just then, Harry and Ron came out.

‘Finished?’ said John.

‘Yeah. Hermione’s talking to McGonagall. Probably trying to see if she can take more classes,’ said Ron. ‘Let’s go upstairs. I’ve had about enough of Trelawney.’

They moved towards the stairs and John turned to Sherlock. ‘Are you coming, or shall I check my crystal ball first?’ he smirked, rolling his eyes.

It was quiet upstairs until Hermione entered the room, accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Harry was admiring the gleaming Firebolt by the light of the fireplace and Professor McGonagall eyed it suspiciously. ‘So that’s it, is it?’ she said, approaching him. ‘Miss Granger has informed me you have been sent a broomstick, Potter.’

They all turned to look at Hermione, who had hidden behind an upside-down book.

‘May I?’ said Professor McGonagall, pulling the broom out of Harry’s hands and examining it carefully. ‘Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?’

‘No,’ said Harry.

‘I see… Well I’m afraid I’ll have to take this, Potter.’

‘W-what? Why?’

‘It will need to be checked for jinxes,’ Professor McGonagall told them. ‘Of course, I’m no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down-‘

‘Strip it down!’ Ron exclaimed.

‘It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘You will have it back if we are sure it’s jinx-free.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with it, honestly, Professor!’ said Harry.

‘You can’t know that, Potter,’ she said kindly, ‘not until you’ve flown it, at any rate, and I’m afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed.’ She turned on her heel, exiting through the portrait hole with the Firebolt in hand.

Ron rounded on Hermione. ‘ _What did you go running to McGonagall for?’_

Hermione threw her book aside, pink in the face, and faced Ron defiantly. ‘Because – and Professor McGonagall agrees with me – that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back and thanks to cypress7, theforestprincex, rainingcatz, hhhelcat and anauthorsworldoo for the comments. I'm in the process of writing the next chapter so I hope to see you all again soon.


	9. The Patronus

The Patronus

As soon as the rest of the students returned, John was bombarded by questions and requests to read the future. Somehow, they all knew what had been said by Professor Trelawney at Christmas dinner.

When Dean arrived back in the common room, it was to Ron and Harry giving Hermione the cold shoulder, and John barricaded in the dormitory.

'What is going on?' he said, bewildered.

'Harry got a Firebolt for Christmas and Hermione told McGonagall,' Ron explained moodily. 'She reckons Sirius Black sent it so she got McGonagall to confiscate it.'

'What? But he's the most wanted man in the country, he can't just walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies.'

'That's exactly what I said,' Ron said pointedly at Hermione's bent over back.

'Whatever, I'm going to find Cas.' He didn't look for long. Castiel and Sherlock were just outside the common room, mumbling to each other.

'Hey, what are you two whispering about?'

'Nothing,' they said.

'What happened to your head?' Dean asked, reaching out to touch a small, purple lump on his forehead.

Cas flinched away. 'This? Nothing. I walked into a door.' He pulled out his wand and quickly healed it, leaving no trace of the bump. 'Let's go inside.' Oblivious to Harry and Ron's issue with Hermione, Cas went and sat next to her to see what she was working on.

Sherlock continued on up to the dormitory.

'For the last time, I am not going to read any tea leaves – oh, it's you.' John was peeping through a crack in the curtains of his four-poster bed, and pulled them aside when he saw Sherlock. 'Sorry, Parvati and Lavender have been badgering me all day. Can you believe this rubbish? Trelawney barely knows what day of the week it is most of the time, but they practically worship her.'

Sherlock shrugged and avoided John's eyes.

'Oh, right, I forgot you believe it too,' John said. 'But why though?'

'I'm not meant to tell you.'

'Says who?'

'No one.'

'Sherlock, come on, you have to tell me what's going on.'

'I don't know anything.'

'I know you do. What about the centaurs?'

'What about them?'

'You just said they told you not to tell me.'

Sherlock squinted at him. 'That's not even close to what I said.'

'Do you think I'm messing around? Tell me what you know.'

'I told you, I don't know anything. If you'll excuse me, I have things to do.'

'No you don't.'

'Bye, John.' He strode out of the room and John angrily pulled the curtains closed again.

Lessons started again the next day, including a Divination class in which John flat-out refused to participate in, and Sherlock pointedly avoided him all day. He was absent from the common room that evening, though Castiel was there studying with them.

'What were you talking to Lupin about, Harry?' Ron asked, balling up a failed attempt at his homework and throwing it in the fire.

'Oh, he's giving me a lesson on Thursday and showing me how to get rid of Dementors,' Harry replied.

'Will you tell me what you have to do?' Castiel asked.

'Yeah, of course.'

Cas smiled, then pulled a large _Encyclopaedia of Herbs_ out of his bag and buried himself behind it.

* * *

January faded into February with no change in the bitterly cold weather. McGonagall still had not returned Harry's Firebolt and the match against Ravenclaw was fast approaching.

John's nerves were frayed from having to hide in the dormitory for most of his free time, and Sherlock was steadfast in his avoidance.

Harry and Ron were still not talking to Hermione.

Harry explained to Castiel that, in order to conjure a Patronus, you must draw on an incredibly happy memory. Castiel then refused to attend the lessons, despite Dean's badgering.

It was a very strained few weeks all around until John finally cornered Sherlock one dreary Saturday. 'Tell me what's going on,' John demanded. 'Why are you avoiding me?'

Sherlock avoided his eyes. 'I can't tell you.'

'Why not? Who says?'

Sherlock hesitated. 'The centaurs, when we met them back in first year.'

John gaped. ' _First year?_ You've been keeping this from me since _first year?_ Fine. Let's go.' He strode away.

'John, wait,' Sherlock said, stumbling after him.

'No.'

'You can't just go up to the centaurs.'

'Why not? Apparently you do.'

Sherlock was unable to convince him of the danger they were about to face, and was helpless to stop him from marching right into the Forbidden Forest. 'Do you even know where you're going?'

'Nope. What are their names?' said John, ducking under a low branch.

'Bane, Firenze, Ronan,' Sherlock said, counting them off on his fingers, 'and Magorian seems to be their leader. Why?'

Without missing a step, John sucked in a deep breath and yelled, 'MAGORIAN!'

'Don't do that!' Sherlock hissed, eyes darting around the dark foliage.

'MAGORIAN, COME OUT!' John bellowed again, paying Sherlock no heed.

Suddenly there was a thundering of hooves and the centaurs appeared, crowding around them.

Magorian regarded them with pure fury until he saw John and faltered.

No one spoke until John's shock was overridden by his frustration. 'Why have you lot been filling my friend's head with fantasy?'

'How dare you speak to us in that manner?' Bane, the black-haired centaur fumed.

Magorian placated him with a hand. 'Bane, I believe the time has come,' he said solemnly. 'Look at him.'

A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd of centaurs.

'Perhaps you're right, Magorian,' Ban murmured. 'I do see a change in him.'

'Hello?' John shouted. 'I asked you a question!'

Magorian moved closer to John. 'We have indeed spoken to your friend, young one, though it is no fantasy.'

'Yeah, okay,' John scoffed. 'As if I'm a Seer.'

'Not just a Seer, but the Oracle.'

'That sounds made up. If it was true, why would you make Sherlock hide it from me?'

Magorian scuffed the ground with one of his hooves.

'Perhaps it would be best to start from the beginning,' another centaur, Ronan said, moving forward.

'I'm listening,' said John, folding his arms.

'Come, let us walk,' said Magorian, turning and leading them away from the gathered centaurs.

John and Sherlock trotted alongside him as he walked.

'Centuries ago, one of our greatest stargazers foretold the arrival of the most powerful Seer the world has ever seen. She declared that this would be the Oracle who would free us from our oppressors and restore us to our rightful, ancestral home,' Magorian explained.

'Why do you think it's me?' John asked 'Surely it's supposed to be a centaur.'

'We believed so until we sensed your power entering the grounds. That the Oracle might be a human had not even crossed our minds, until we called to it and you appeared before us.'

'What do you mean "appeared before us", I've never met you.'

'We have many powers at our disposal. Our magic allowed us to summon you to us in your sleep, without you waking.'

'Wait, you mean every time I went sleepwalking it was actually you lot putting a spell on me?'

'Yes.'

'Brilliant. Why would you do that when I'm not who you're looking for?'

Magorian twitched his tail. 'There is another reason we believe that you are the one.'

'Where are we going?' Sherlock piped up.

'You shall soon find out,' Magorian said cryptically 'It has always been said that along with the Oracle would come one destined to guide them. They would be there to interpret the multitude of visions the Oracle would experience. They would have incredible powers of logic and observation, and would be connected to the Oracle through a magical link between their minds.'

'What does that mean?' John frowned, stepping over a thick, knotted root.

The trees were becoming twisted and gnarled the further in they went. With thick trunks and branches reaching immeasurably high, they must truly be ancient.

'The Oracle and Observer are linked in this way, as a vision could strike at any moment,' Magorian continued, 'allowing them to communicate instantaneously no matter the distance between them. As your power and connection grow, you will be able to share thoughts and feelings on a whim, wherever you are.'

'That sounds…invasive.'

'We are certain that you are the Oracle because we have also discovered the Observer. You revealed him to us, in fact.'

'I did?'

'Think about it, young one. Who do you know to have unmatched logic and reasoning? Who do you feel the closest to?'

John's gaze slid onto Sherlock, whose eyes were flickering around uncomfortably.

Just then, the air was filled with a soft glow and they walked around a wide tree to find a large, flickering fire in a grassy clearing. The trees were still big enough to shade the clearing with their leaves, causing it to appear darker than it was.

The fire was masterfully constructed and large enough that it could have fit at least twenty people around it. It was surrounded by gemstones of all shapes, sizes and colours, and John was almost hypnotised by the dancing flames.

'Please sit,' said Magorian.

John and Sherlock did as they were told.

'This is our most sacred place. No human has ever laid eyes on the Starflame.'

'The Starflame?' said Sherlock. 'I've never heard of it.'

'It was first sparked by a falling star. Some say that it was this that first inspired centaurs to look skyward and we are stronger around it. Although only our best Diviners are able to truly interpret the signs given by the Starflame.'

'Fascinating,' Sherlock murmured.

Another centaur emerged from the shadows, but this one was different from the others they had seen. She was incredibly old, with flowing, slate-coloured hair.

'Elder Oseus,' said Magorian, bowing to her.

She acknowledged him with a flick of her tail and said, 'You may go, Magorian.'

He disappeared back into the trees and Oseus settled down beside John and Sherlock.

'Such a jumpy young foal,' she said good-naturedly, her voice gravely and weathered with age. 'Yet wise for all that.' She stoked the fire with a long stick. 'Our males can be a little rough around the edged, I'm afraid. Do be patient with them, though. They place a lot of stock by our traditions, and for good reason. Now, John. Why do you deny your powers?'

John shrugged and started into the fire. 'I'm nothing special,' he said.

'I think your friend would disagree.'

John looked at Sherlock, who turned slightly red.

'If it's true, why would you have him hide it from me?'

'We believed that you were too young and inexperienced to accept such a large responsibility. You were so small when you arrived in our Forest. Bane nearly stepped on you,' she chuckled. 'They came to me for guidance, and I admit that it was I that instructed them to keep it from you. For the time being. I suspect that you are still unprepared, but some things are beyond our control and that Trelawney creature is a force unto herself.'

'True,' said John.

'If you think about all the strange things that have happened these last few years, it makes sense, right?' Sherlock said quietly.

'I always just put that down to us managing to make friends with the one person that managed to make a personal enemy out of Voldemort.'

'Perhaps it would help to look back upon the time you've spent together. Just the two of you,' Oseus said, continuing to stoke the fire.

'I…'

'Accept it in your own time, by all means, little one,' she said. 'This is not something that should be forced in any way, but for your own sake, don't discount it altogether. Now, it is time for you to return to the castle.'

'Wait, I have a question,' Sherlock said. 'Magorian said that the Oracle is meant to lead the centaurs into a great battle, but why would John lead an army against his own people?'

'That is a fine question,' she said, eyes twinkling. 'Perhaps he will. You must keep your mind open. After all, you are both living proof that things do not always happen in the way we expect. Off you go, now, I'm sure you have much to discuss.'

The two of them go to their feet, then Sherlock bowed to the wisened centaur. 'Thank you, Elder Oseus,' he said, nudging John to do the same.

As they exited the clearing, John pulled out his wand and fiddled with it. 'Silver Lime,' he murmured.

'Particularly drawn to Seers,' Sherlock muttered back.

'Oh right.'

'I'm sorry I kept it from you.'

'I understand. Mostly. I don't know, I don't really believe it.'

'We'll see.'

Magorian and the rest of the herd led them back to the edge of the trees, where they found that it was already late afternoon.

'I hope we meet again soon, Oracle,' Magorian said, before fadin back into the Forest.

John was silent on their way back up to the common room. He was feeling quite fragile and small.

Castiel wsa the first to see him as they entered. 'How did it go? Did they tell you all about your power?' he asked.

'Wait,' John narrowed his eyes at his friends, all looking at him expectantly. 'Did you all know?'

Ron, Hermione and Castiel all looked away guiltily.

'Brilliant. Where's Harry?'

'He had a lesson with Professor Lupin today, but he should have been back by now,' said Hermione.

The portrait hole opened again and Harry came in with a huge grin on his face and the shiny Firebolt in his hands. Suddenly he was surrounded by people admiring the broom and asking to hold it. They dispersed after around ten minutes and Harry and Ron approached Hermione's table.

John sat down beside Castiel.

'How are you?' Castiel asked.

'I don't feel any different,' John shrugged, watching Ron go upstairs with the Firebolt. 'It can't be real, right? I'm not this amazing Seer, I'm not even that good at Divination.'

At that moment, a strangled yell echoed down the staircase and the common room fell silent. There were hurried footsteps and Ron came leaping into view, dragging a bedsheet with him. 'LOOK!' he bellowed, striding over to Hermione. 'LOOK!' He shook the sheets in her face.

'Ron, what-?'

'SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!'

Hermione leant away from Ron looking utterly bewildered.

John looked over at the sheet and there was a red mark on it that looked horribly like-

'BLOOD!' Ron yelled into the stunned silence. 'HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?'

'N-no,' said Hermione in a trembling voice.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione's homework. It was several long, ginger cat hairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone. Thanks again to theforestprincex and hhhelcat for the comments. I'm actually quite ahead on the actual writing of the chapters, it's just a matter of finding the time to type them, so I hope to be back soon


	10. Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw

Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw

It seemed as if it was the end of Ron and Hermione’s friendship.

Ron was so enraged by Hermione’s repeated attempts to defend Crookshanks, that not even Fred and George could find a way to cheer him up. Harry, however, did manage to take his mind off Scabbers for a while, by inviting him to watch Quidditch practice- his first time with the Firebolt.

Cas and John were also eager to see it in action, so they, with Sherlock and Dean, accompanied Harry and Ron down to the Quidditch pitch for the final practice before the Ravenclaw match.

Madam Hooch was overseeing the Gryffindor practice to keep an eye on Harry, so she sat in the stands with Ron.

They watched Harry fly around the stadium at breakneck speed, becoming nothing more than a blur that caught the Snitch within seconds of its release.

Madam Hooch had fallen asleep by the time practice had finished, so the team returned to the castle, while Harry handed the Firebolt to Ron.

Dean leaned against the railing dividing the stands from the pitch, and watched Ron land slightly less than gracefully. Sherlock came to stand next to him just as Castiel took off.

‘He’s pretty good,’ said Dean, watching Cas skim over the grass and pull sharply up to do a few smooth loops.

‘Not a flier?’ asked Sherlock as Cas touched down and handed the broom to John.

‘Hell no,’ said Dean. ‘I hate flying.’

John was a little unsteady at first, but soon he was weaving between the goalposts and zooming the length of the pitch.

‘Not bad, John,’ said Harry as he landed. ‘You should try out for the team. You look like you might make a good Beater.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ John scoffed, pink in the face from the wind. ‘Let me know when you don’t need Fred and George anymore.’

Night had fallen before Madam Hooch awoke and told them off for not waking her sooner. She insisted they go back up to the castle, and they encountered Crookshanks on their way.

Ron picked up a stone to throw at him, but he disappeared before Ron could do anything. He spent the rest of the walk raging about Crookshanks.

 

John woke up the next morning in an incredibly good mood and practically skipped down to the Great Hall.

Harry and the team were already there, admiring the Firebolt that had carefully been placed in the middle of the table.

‘What’re you so pleased about?’ Harry asked.

John shrugged and grabbed a piece of toast.

‘Sure you can handle that broom, Potter?’ came a drawling voice.

Malfoy had come over for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

‘Yeah, reckon so,’ Harry said casually.

‘Got plenty of special features, hasn’t it?’ said Malfoy. ‘Shame it doesn’t come with a parachute – in case you get too near a Dementor.

‘Pity you can’t attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy,’ Harry said, without missing a beat. ‘Then it could catch the Snitch for you.’

The Gryffindors all laughed loudly and Malfoy stalked away.

A hand squeezed John’s shoulder and he turned to see Sherlock siting down beside him.

‘You look happy,’ Sherlock said.

‘Yeah,’ John grinned. ‘I feel pretty good today.’

Sherlock looked at him curiously, then smiled and shook his head.

‘What?’ said John.

‘Nothing.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I don’t want to spoil it for you.’

‘Spoil what?’

‘John, really, patience is a virtue. Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon.’

John huffed and watched the team leave to much applause.

Dean appeared behind them. ‘Can’t wait to see Harry destroy them on that thing,’ he said happily. ‘Oh, is Cas not with you?’

‘No, I thought he was with you?’

‘Maybe he’s with his brother.’

‘No, Gabriel’s over there.’

Sherlock turned to John. ‘Do you know?’

‘Why would I know?’

‘I mean, can you…tell?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ John said, realising what Sherlock was asking him. ‘I don’t know where he is, I don’t have special powers, just stop with that, okay? Let’s just go to down to the pitch.’ John stood up and walked out of the hall. His mood had dropped dramatically and he couldn’t bring himself out of it, despite the beautifully clear weather outside.

Castiel was already in the stands, saving them seats, and didn’t answer when asked where he had been.

The teams walked out onto the pitch, Ravenclaw in blue and Gryffindor in scarlet. The captains shook hands, and they kicked off, Harry zooming higher and faster than anyone else.

‘They’re off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt, which Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor,’ Lee Jordan, the usual match commentator, called through the megaphone. ‘According to _Which Broomstick,_ the Firebolt’s going to be the broom of choice for the national team at this year’s World Championship-‘

‘Jordan, would you mind telling us what’s going on with the match?’ interrupted Professor McGonagall.

‘Right you are, Professor, just giving a bit of background information. The Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and-‘

‘Jordan!’

‘Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for the goal…’

Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, was tailing Harry closely, cutting him off at every turn. John smirked as Harry hesitated to speed past her. ‘I think he likes her,’ he said to Sherlock.

‘Mmm,’ Sherlock said, watching Alicia Spinnett score.

Fred and George were whizzing around after each of the Bludgers while Lee gave an update. ‘Gryffindor lead by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter’s really putting it through its paces now. See it turn- Chang, who has interestingly chosen to use her Comet today, rather than one of the team’s Nimbuses, is just no match for it. The Firebolt’s precision-balance is really noticeable in these long-‘

‘JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!’

Ravenclaw began to pull back and scored more goals.

John glanced at Castiel, who was watching the Quaffle very closely, then at Sherlock. He was paying barely any attention to the match and looked quite bored.

‘What’s your problem?’ John asked, still annoyed with him.

‘Nothing.’

‘Fine.’

Cho was still marking and blocking Harry at every turn.

Harry went into a steep dive, then pulled sharply out of it, losing Cho almost completely. He sped after what must have been the Snitch, but Cho stopped and screamed.

They looked down at what Cho was pointing at and saw three Dementors gliding onto the pitch.

Dean instinctively moved close to Cas, and John braced himself for the cold dread to wash over him, but nothing came.

Before anyone could think, they heard Harry roar, ‘ _Expecto Patronum!’_ and a large, silvery stag erupted from the end of his wand. It charged at the Dementor, and at the same time, Harry closed his hand around the Snitch.

Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded and teachers converged on the heap of black robes that had been the Dementors.

The blonde head of Draco Malfoy emerged from one of the hoods, along with Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint.

A small glow caught John’s eye. Castiel had his wand out and it as glowing ominously. He was gripping it tightly and glaring at Malfoy.

‘Relax, man,’ Dean muttered, slowly pulling Castiel’s wand out of his hand and putting it in his pocket. ‘It’s just a stupid prank.’

Professor McGonagall marched over to the Slytherins with an expression of utmost fury on her face. ‘An unworthy trick!’ she shouted. ‘A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes!’

John grabbed Castiel’s arm and gently tried to pull him away. ‘Come on, let’s go up to the common room. I bet Fred and George will have something fun planned.’

Cas yanked his arm away and stalked off.

‘See you up there,’ said Dean, going after him.

‘He’ll be fine,’ Sherlock said to John.

John shrugged and they walked back up with the rest of the Gryffindors.

 

The atmosphere in the common room was buzzing with excitement now that Gryffindor would play in the final against Slytherin.

Fred and George disappeared, then returned with plenty of food and drinks that they’d snuck in from Hogsmeade.

Even Castiel began enjoying himself once Dean convinced him to try a glass of pumpkin fizz and the bubbles went up his nose.

Hermione was still studying in a corner and Harry went over to talk to her, but she ran off to er dormitory crying when she heard Ron say loudly, ‘If Scabbers hadn’t just been _eaten,_ he could have had some of these Fudge Flies. He used to really like them…’

Later on, John was stood watching Fred and George creating a small fireworks display in the middle of the room, laughing raucously when they formed a rude hand gesture.

‘Oh yeah, why were you being so weird at the match?’ he asked Sherlock, remembering his apparent boredom.

Sherlock looked directly at him, eyes glittering, and John squinted at him.

‘You’re not telling me you knew we’d win? How could you possibly..?’

‘I didn’t know,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You did.’

‘I think you’ve had a bit much Butterbeer.’

‘Think about it, John. Why were you in such a good mood this morning?’

‘Am I not allowed to be in a good mood?’

‘It’s all right. You don’t need to be able to recognise it or make sense of it. That’s what I’m for, remember?’ Sherlock smiled at him warmly.

John felt uncertain and oddly fuzzy behind the eyes.

Sherlock’s gaze suddenly sharpened. ‘Your nose is bleeding,’ he said, alarmed.

‘What?’ John touched the tip of his finger to his lip. It felt wet, and when he pulled it away, it was red and shiny. ‘Huh.’ His knees gave out and he collapsed to frightened gasps around the room.

Sherlock held him up until he regained his footing. ‘I think it’s time to go to bed,’ he said, guiding John towards the stairs.

John made no resistance and they left the party behind. He sat heavily on the bed. Sherlock sat opposite, looking at him curiously.

‘What?’ said John, now feeling quite drained.

‘Can you see anything?’ he asked.

‘I can see you.’

‘No, I mean, can you see anything in the future?’

‘Sherlock, please-‘

‘You’ve always had “symptoms” before a vision,’ Sherlock interrupted. ‘Castiel agrees with me.’

‘Like what?’

‘Headaches, dizziness, fainting. Something always happens when you have a severe bout of these, though the nosebleed is new. Perhaps a sign of your power increasing.’

‘Good to know.’

‘I think it would be prudent to try and See something.’

John bit his lip nervously. ‘How?’

‘Close your eyes and concentrate. Try to see through the darkness.’

John nodded, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He tried to focus, but all he could see was black. ‘I can’t see anything,’ he said.

‘Keep trying,’ Sherlock murmured.

John shook out his hands and tried once more. He thought he saw a flash of grey, but it slipped away before he could tell what it was, if it was anything. ‘It’s no good. I can’t do it.’ He opened his eyes and looked hopelessly at Sherlock, framed by the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Sherlock licked the end of his sleeve and used it to wipe away the blood from John’s face. ‘Perhaps you need some sort of instrument to help you. At least at first. Hermione says you’re good with tea leaves.’

‘Not really helpful right now, though,’ John said, stretching into a yawn.

‘No. I suppose we’ll find out what it is soon enough.’

‘Right. I’m going to sleep. You staying?’

‘I can.’

‘It’s late. You might as well.’

Sherlock responded by pulling out the spare set of pyjamas he kept in John’s bedside cabinet.

It wasn’t long before both of them were fast asleep in John’s bed. Neither of them were disturbed by the other boys coming to bed, despite Seamus’s sniggers and Dean Thomas elbowing him to stop.

John slept fitfully, his dreams filled with the rattling of Dementors. One appeared before him and brought its scabby fingers up towards its hood. John somehow knew that what was underneath was horrific, but he was rooted to the spot, unable to turn away. All he could do was watch in terror as it gripped the edge of its hood and pulled…

John’s eyes snapped open and he sat up shivering, breathing heavily. Sherlock shifted groggily and John could feel a warm spot on his chest where Sherlock had protectively put his hand. He suddenly became aware of a figure standing over Ron on the other side of the room. He gasped quietly, realising who it was, though he was strangely unafraid. ‘Sirius?’ he said.

Black didn’t hear him, and drew a knife. He slashed at Ron’s curtains, then cursed under his breath.

Ron woke up and screamed, and Black fled from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sherlock jerked awake, and the sounds of the other boys waking up erupted around them.

‘What’s going on?’ Seamus called across the room.

Harry pulled open his curtains at the same moment Dean lit his lamp.

‘Black! Sirius Black! With a knife!’ Ron said, voice high with fear.

‘ _What?’_

‘Here! Just now! Slashed the curtains! Woke me up!’

‘You sure you weren’t dreaming, Ron?’ said Dean.

‘Look at the curtains! I’m telling you, he was here!’

They all scrambled out of bed and down to the common room, waking up other people in their dormitories.

‘Who shouted?’

‘What’re you doing?’

‘Are you _sure_ you weren’t dreaming, Ron?’

‘I saw him!’

‘What’s all the noise?’

‘Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!’

A few girls came down the staircase, as well as most of the boys.

‘Excellent, are we carrying on?’ Fred said brightly.

‘I’d be up for that!’ Dean Winchester called to him.

‘Everyone back upstairs!’ said Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning on his Head Boy badge.

‘Perce – Sirius Black!’ Ron said. ‘In our dormitory! With a knife!’

‘Nonsense!’ said Percy, looking startled. ‘You had too much to eat, Ron – had a nightmare –‘

‘I’m telling you-‘

‘Now, really, enough’s enough!’

Professor McGonagall appeared, slamming the portrait behind her. ‘I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Holmes, why are you even here? Percy, I expected better of you!’

‘I certainly didn’t authorise this, Professor!’ said Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. ‘I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare-‘

‘IT WASN’T A NIGHTMARE!’ Ron yelled. ‘PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!’

‘I saw him too, Professor,’ John said quietly.

Professor McGonagall stared at them. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, how could he possibly have got through the portrait hole?’

‘Ask him!’ said Ron, pointing at the back of Sir Cadogan’s picture. ‘Ask him if he saw-‘

Professor McGonagall pushed open the portrait and went outside. ‘Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?’

‘Certainly, good lady!’ cried Sir Cadogan.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

‘You- you did?’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘But-but the password!’

‘He had ‘em!’ said Sir Cadogan proudly. ‘Had the whole week’s, my lady. Read ‘em off a little piece of paper!’

Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole. ‘Which person,’ she said, voice shaking. ‘Which abysmally foolish person wrote down the week’s passwords and left them lying around?’

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to toe, raised his hand slowly in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks again to hhhelcat, theforestprincex and rainingcatz for the comments.  
> Just to let you know, I've actually finished writing this so it's now just a matter of typing it. I'm allowing myself an hour every day to type and I'm a fast typer so I'm hoping the updates will be more frequent. In any case, I'l see you all soon.


	11. Snape's Grudge

The castle was searched, however, Professor McGonagall returned to Gryffindor Tower in the early hours of the morning and informed them that Black had once again escaped.

Security was tightened the next day, Flitwick teaching the front doors to recognise a large picture of Sirius Black, and Filch began boarding up every crack and mouse hole he could find.

Ron was enjoying the attention being showered on him due to the last night’s events, and soon everyone knew he was telling the truth when the Sir Cadogan was sacked and the Fat Lady restored to her position. She demanded that she have a group of security trolls to protect her, so from then on trolls roamed the corridor just outside the portrait hole.

Neville was no longer allowed to know the password into Gryffindor Tower, and had to wait outside with the trolls leering at him until someone let him in. He received a Howler at breakfast and John watched him flee the Great Hall.

‘It’s hardly his fault if he couldn’t remember all the stupid passwords Sir Cadogan was giving out,’ John said, shaking his head bitterly.

Hedwig then landed in front of Harry with a note from Hagrid.

_Dear Harry and Ron,_

_How about having tea with me this evening around six? You can bring John and Sherlock and Casstiel. I’ll come and collect you from the castle. WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL, YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN._

_Cheers,_

_Hagrid_

So, at six o’clock that evening, they all met up in the Entrance Hall, where Hagrid was already waiting for them.

‘Can Dean come?’ Cas asked once they reached him.

‘’Course. The more the merrier. Dean..?

‘Oh, Winchester, sir,’ said Dean.

‘Winchester? Aren’ you meant ter be in my class?’

Dean grinned sheepishly. ‘Uh, yeah, sorta.’

Hagrid rolled his eyes and led them out of the castle.

The first thing they saw on entering Hagrid’s cabin was Buckbeak, tearing into a large plate of dead ferrets.

‘What’re they for?’ Harry asked, pointing at an ugly, brown, hairy suit, with a horrid yellow and orange tie.

‘Buckbeak’s case against the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures,’ said Hagrid. ‘This Friday. Him an’ me’ll be goin’ down to London together. I’ve booked two beds on the Knight Bus…’

‘Mycroft will be assisting in the defense of your case,’ Sherlock said softly. ‘He’s very good at that sort of thing, though I’m not sure how much difference it will make.’

‘No matter what the verdict, I’m grateful fer everything you and yer brother have done fer me an’ Beaky,’ Hagrid said, pouring large mugs of tea. ‘I won’ never forget it.’

‘Think nothing of it. He doesn’t deserve this treatment, especially from the likes of Malfoy.’

John looked at Sherlock and was surprised to see quite a genuine expression on his face.’

‘What have I missed?’ Dean asked, taking a sip of tea and wrinkling his nose at it.

‘Draco Malfoy insulted Buckbeak and he attacked,’ Cas explained to him. ‘As I understand it, Sherlock’s brother has been blocking it as much as he can, but he has not been successful.’

‘Wait,’ said Dean. ‘Everyone knows that it’s dangerous to insult a Hippogriff. He just did what Hippogriffs do, right? Case closed.’

‘You’d have thought,’ Sherlock said sourly.

Hagrid finished with the tea and sat down. ‘I got somethin’ ter discuss with you two,’ he said, looking at Harry and Ron, uncharacteristically serious.

‘What?’ said Harry.

‘Hermione,’ said Hagrid.

‘What about her?’ said Ron.

‘She’s in a righ’ state, that’s what. She’s bin comin’ down ter visit me a lot since Christmas. Bin feelin’ lonely. Not blamin’ the rest o’ yeh, she knows yeh’ve had a lot on, but you two. Firs’ yeh weren’ talkin’ to her because o’ the Firebolt, now yer not talkin’ to her because her cat-‘

‘-ate Scabbers!’ Ron interjected angrily.

‘Because her cat acted like all cats do,’ Hagrid continued doggedly. ‘She’s cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin’ through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more’n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work she’s tryin’ ter do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak’s case, mind. She’s found some really good stuff fer me… reckon he’ll stand a good chance now, especially if Mycroft’s helping.’

Harry and Ron looked at each other guiltily. Clearly they had forgotten all about it.

‘Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She’s got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an’ you two not talkin’ to her-‘

‘If she’d just get rid of the cat, I’d talk to her again,’ Ron said angrily. ‘But she’s still sticking up for it! It’s a maniac, and she won’t hear a word against it!’

‘Ah well, people can be a bit stupid about their pets,’ Hagrid said wisely.

They all said goodbye to Hagrid and made their way up to Gryffindor Tower, where there was a crowd of people around the notice board.

‘Looks like another Hogsmeade weekend,’ said Ron, craning to see over their heads. ‘What do you reckon?’ he added quietly to Harry.

‘Harry!’ Hermione appeared from behind a giant stack of books. ‘If you go to Hogsmeade again… I’ll tell Professor McGonagall about that map!’

‘So no you’re trying to get Harry expelled! Haven’t you done enough damage this year?’ Ron said savagely.

‘That’s enough, Ron,’ Castiel said boldly. ‘I am sorry about Scabbers, but this is going too far.’

‘What if that _thing_ ate your pet?’ Ron shot back. ‘How would you feel?’

‘I would miss Grace dearly, but not as much as I would Hermione. You ought to rethink your priorities,’ said Cas. Clearly considering the matter closed, he turned to Hermione. ‘You must take a break. I inisist.’ He put his arm around her and walked her out of the common room.

Dean shrugged awkwardly and went to talk to Fred and George.

‘Do you believe that?’ said Ron.

‘Well, he’s not wrong,’ John said. ‘It’s like Hargrid said, it’s what cats do.’

‘Fine, take her side.’ He stormed off and they didn’t see him again until the next morning.

John came down to breakfast in relatively good spirits, decked out in woolly hat and gloves for the cold weather.

‘I’ll see you out there,’ Ron muttered to John on his way out of the Great Hall.

‘You think Harry’ll sneak out today?’ John said to Sherlock in a low voice.

‘Almost certainly,’ Sherlock murmured back.

‘Don’t tell Hermione?’

‘I wouldn’t want to worry her.’

John took a bite of his cereal. ‘Seen Castiel this morning?’

‘No. He was already gone when I woke up.’

‘Maybe he went to visit Madam Pomfrey or something.’

‘Maybe.’

John finished his breakfast, then they made their way down to the castle gates. There was no sign of Castiel by the time they passed the Dementors, only Dean looking for him.

‘Haven’t seen him,’ said John, eating the square of chocolate he’d brought with him. ‘You want to come with us to the Three Broomsticks?’

‘Sure, why not?’

There was an awkward silence, which Sherlock was more than happy to participate in. John was not, however. ‘What’s your family like, Dean?’ he asked.

‘Uh, my dad works for the Magical Congress as an Auror. He’s away a lot. My mom was a No-Maj – I mean Muggle – but I remember her being super happy when I first started showing signs of magic.’

‘What was it?’ Sherlock asked. ‘Your first sign?’

‘My mom walked in on me levitating my baby brother, Sam’s toys for him,’ Dean smiled. ‘Yours?’

‘I was messing with Mycroft and I turned myself invisible. He couldn’t find me for three days. Made himself quite ill. I had no idea, of course, and was quite upset that no one was paying attention to me,’ Sherlock chuckled.

Dean grinned. ‘Yeah, it’s mostly just my brother and me, but we got a really nice place when we moved here. There’s not much to do since it’s a village, but Sam likes it.’

They arrived at the Three Broomsticks and sat down with a Butterbeer each.

‘If he’s coming, he’ll find us here,’ John said reassuringly to Dean.

‘If he can get past the Dementors on his own,’ said Dean, frowning. ‘He still won’t ask Lupin if he can come to lessons with Harry.’

‘Maybe he’s worried he won’t be able to come up with a happy memory,’ said John. ‘I’d rather avoid it too, if I had to relive what he does every time I went near a Dementor.’

‘That’s a good point,’ said Dean. ‘All right, I gotta go to the little boys’ room.’

As soon as Dean left, John was suddenly very restless, bouncing his legs under the table.

‘What’s wrong?’ Sherlock asked.

John looked anxiously out of the window, then stood up. ‘I have to go,’ he said urgently.

‘What? Why?’

He didn’t answer, instead bolting out of the pub.

‘John, wait!’

Dean came back out of the bathroom just in time to see Sherlock running after him. ‘Well that’s rude,’ he muttered to himself. He finished his Butterbeer, the tipped Madam Rosmerta on his way out. He was walking along aimlessly, thinking he might go and find Fred and George, when he saw someone staggering around just down the road. ‘Cas?’ he said, squinting, hardly believing his eyes.

‘Dean!’ Cas said delightedly, a slight slur to his voice. He did a funny sort of twirl, then walked up to Dean, his feet dragging.

‘Cas, what happened?’ Dean asked, grabbing Cas by the shoulder to stop him swaying.

‘I f-found a bottle of firewhiskey,’ he said, eyelids drooping lazily.

‘And?’

‘And I drank it. Well, most of it.’ Cas yanked a glass bottle out of his pocket and took a swig, It was almost empty.

‘Hey, stop that!’ Dean said, taking it from him.

‘ _Deeeeaaaan!’_ Cas said indignantly, reaching for the bottle and nearly falling over.

‘What the hell, man?’ said Dean, holding it out of his reach.

‘I got past the Dementors all by myself,’ Cas said loudly. ‘All by myself.’

Dean grimaced. ‘I think we should go find your brother.’

‘ _No,_ not Gabriel. He’ll be so-so-so sad. He won’t want to see me anymore.’ He started to cry.

‘Hey, that’s not true,’ Dean said softly. ‘Not even a little bit.’

Cas shook his head. ‘It is. He’ll be so disappointed.’

‘I’m sure he won’t. Come on, let’s go find him and I’ll prove it.’

‘I can’t, Dean, I can’t.’ Cas sat down on the ground and buried his head in his hands.

Dean knelt down beside him. ‘What’s going on, man? You gotta tell me, so we can figure out how to make it better.’

Cas sat silently for a while, then reached a hand down his shirt. He pulled put a simple silver crucifix on a simple chain. ‘This was hers,’ he murmured. ‘She gave it to me for my birthday.’ He stared at it for a moment. ‘It’s getting worse. Every time I walk past them it’s like having my heart ripped out all over again. I don’t want to feel it anymore,’ he said, voice cracking.

‘That makes sense,’ Dean nodded, ‘but you don’t need this.’ He shook the whiskey bottle.

‘What do you mean?’ Cas said. He looked up, eyes and cheeks wet.

‘Next time, why don’t you come in the way Harry comes. That way you don’t even need to go near them.’

‘That could work.’

‘Yeah!’ He grinned at Cas. ‘Come on.’ Dean hauled him to his feet, steadying him until he gained some balance. ‘Let’s go find Gabriel… and get you some water. You’re so going to regret this tomorrow.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, you’ll find out.’

 

Meanwhile John, who had not even see Castiel on his sprint through Hogsmeade, found himself in Honeydukes. His hand shot out almost of its own accord and grabbed what he thought was thin air, but must have been Harry under the Invisibility Cloak. He pulled Harry down the basement and into the passage between the sweet shop and Hogwarts. ‘Come on,’ he hissed urgently, almost dragging Harry along the passage. ‘Leave the Cloak.’

Harry ripped it off and they ran as fast as they could.

They reached the end of the passage at last and jumped out, concealing the entrance just as Snape rounded the corner.

‘So,’ he said, a look of supressed triumph on his face. ‘Come with me, both of you.’

They followed him down to his dungeon office, trying to level out their heavy breathing without Snape noticing.

‘Sit,’ said Snape.

They did as they were told, though Snape remained standing.

‘Mr Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story. He tells me that he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Weasley, apparently alone. Mr Malfoy states that he was standing talking to Weasley, when a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head. How do you think that could have happened?’

John’s eyebrows shot up. ‘No idea,’ he said truthfully.

‘Mr Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been?’

‘No,’ said Harry.

‘It was your head, Potter. Floating in mid-air.’

‘Whoa,’ said John. ‘The Shrieking Shack, right? It’s pretty haunted up there.’

‘It wasn’t a ghost,’ Snape snapped. ‘If your head was in Hogsmeade, Potter, so was the rest of you.’

‘I’ve been up in Gryffindor Tower,’ said Harry.

‘Can anyone confirm that?’

‘I can,’ said John.

Harry shot him a brief, grateful look.

‘That’s odd, Watson, considering I saw you leave with Holmes this morning.’ Snape looked satisfied. ‘How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter. He, too, was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch pitch made him think he was a cut above the rest of us, too.’ Snape leaned towards Harry as he said this. He seemed to have forgotten that John was there. ‘Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers… The resemblance between you is uncanny.’

‘My dad didn’t _strut,’_ said Harry, causing John to groan quietly. ‘And nor do I.’

‘Your father didn’t set much store by the rules, either,’ Snape went on. ‘Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup winners. His head was so swollen-‘

‘SHUT UP!’

John winced and rubbed his face. He felt himself sinking in his chair, hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible.

‘ _What did you say to me, Potter?’_

 _‘_ I told you to shut up about my dad!’ Harry yelled. ‘I know the truth, all right? He saved your life! Dumbledore told me! You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my dad!’

John sat in complete shock, wondering just what exactly he’d gotten himself into.

‘Turn out your pockets, Potter,’ Snape spat suddenly.

Harry didn’t move.

‘Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the Headmaster!’

Harry slowly emptied his pockets, which contained a bag of tricks from Zonko’s Joke Shop and the Marauder’s Map.

Snape picked up the Zonko’s bag.

‘Ron gave them to me,’ Harry said quickly.

‘Indeed? And you’ve been carrying them around ever since? How very touching… and what is this?’

Snape picked up the map and John held his breath.

‘Spare bit of parchment,’ Harry shrugged.

‘Surely you don’t need such a very _old_ piece of parchment?’ said Snape. ‘Why don’t I just throw it away?’ His hand moved towards the fire.

‘No!’

John groaned again.

‘So! Is this another treasure gift from Mr Weasley? Or is it something else? A letter, perhaps written in invisible ink? Or instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the Dementors? Let me see.’ He pulled his wand out and smoothed the map out on the desk. ‘Reveal your secret!’ he said, touching his wand to the parchment. Nothing happened. ‘Show yourself!’ He tapped the map sharply. It stayed blank. ‘Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!’ said Snape, hitting the map with his wand.

As though an invisible hand was writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.

‘ _Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.’_

Snape froze and John’s mouth dropped open in horror. More writing then appeared.

‘ _Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.’_

It would have been very funny if not for the look on Snape’s face. Still the map was not finished.

_‘Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor.’_

John bit his lip, watching the map have its final word.

‘ _Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.’_

‘So…’ Snape said softly. ‘We’ll see about this…’ He strode across to the fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames. ‘Lupin!’ he called into the fire. ‘I want a word.’

A large shape appeared in the fire, revolving very fast, and Professor Lupin clambered out of the fireplace.

‘You called, Severus?’ he said mildly.

John looked up and saw Professor Lupin’s face shimmering oddly. He shuddered and fell out of his chair. He clutched at his head in an attempt to stop it from spinning quite so much, and blood flowed from his nose, dripping on the cold stone floor. After a minute, he regained some sense, and tried to remember what Sherlock had said. He needed an instrument of some kind, but what? He looked at the fire and recalled that Trelawney had said something about fire omens. Squinting at it, he tried to discern anything at all from the flames, but all that happened was in increase in intensity in the stabbing sensation in his forehead. He closed his eyes again and hissed through his teeth, waiting for the pain to subside. Eventually, it faded and he felt cool hands on his shoulders. He knew who it was without looking, and allowed Sherlock to help him to his feet. He opened his eyes and saw Lupin looking at him concernedly, whilst tucking the map into his pocket. Ron was there too, trying to catch his breath.

‘Are you all right, John?’ Lupin asked.

John nodded and winced.

‘What’s wrong? Perhaps you should go to Madam Pomfrey.’

‘He’s a Seer, Professor,’ Sherlock said. ‘He’s still learning how to control it.’

‘A Seer? How interesting.’

‘I’m not,’ John mumbled. ‘I can’t do it.’

Snape was looking murderous at Sherlock and Ron’s intrusion, so Lupin said, ‘If you’ll excuse us, Severus, I’d like a word with these boys about their vampire essays.’

They swiftly exited Snape’s office, none of them saying a word until they reached the Entrance Hall.

‘I don’t want to hear explanations,’ Lupin said shortly when Harry opened his mouth. ‘I happen to know that that map was confiscated by Mr Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it’s a map. I don’t want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, _astounded_ that you didn’t hand it in. Particularly after what happened last time a student left information about the castle lying around. I can’t let you have it back. These mapmakers would have found it extremely entertaining trying to lure you out of the school.’

‘Do you _know_ them?’ said Harry.

‘We’ve met.’ Lupin looked at Harry seriously. ‘Don’t expect me to cover for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you hear whenever the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives for yours, Harry. A poor way to repay them – gambling their sacrifice on a bag of magic tricks.’ He walked away, leaving them in silence.

Slowly, they made their way up the marble staircase.

‘It’s my fault,’ said Ron as they approached Gryffindor Tower. ‘I convinced you to go…’

He trailed off as they reached the corridor where the security trolls were pacing.

Hermione was waiting by the Fat Lady and walked over to them as soon as she saw them.

‘Come to have a good gloat?’ Ron said savagely, assuming she had heard what happened. ‘Or have you just been to tell on us?’

‘No,’ said Hermione. She was holding a letter in her hand and her lip was trembling. ‘I just thought you ought to know… Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone. Thanks again to theforestprincex and hhhelcat for the comments. See you all again soon.


	12. The Quidditch Final

The Quidditch Final

‘He- he sent me this,’ Hermione said, holding out the letter.

Hagrid had clearly been crying when he’d written it, as teardrops had smudged the ink quite badly in places.

_Dear Hermione_

_We lost. I’m allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts. Execution to be fixed._

_Beaky enjoyed London._

_I won’t forget the help you gave us._

_Hagrid_

John felt Sherlock’s grip on him tighten, though he was grateful for the extra support, since he could barely feel his legs.

‘They can’t do this,’ said Harry. ‘They can’t. Buckbeak isn’t dangerous.’

‘Malfoy’s dad frightened the committee into it,’ said Hermione, wiping her eyes. ‘You know what he’s like. Once he’d said his piece, there was nothing even Mycroft could do to convince them otherwise. There’ll be an appeal, only I can’t see much hope. Nothing will have changed.’

‘Yeah, it will,’ Ron said fiercely. ‘You don’t have to do it alone this time. I’ll help.’

‘Oh, Ron!’ Hermione flung her arms around Ron’s neck.

Ron, looking quite terrified, patted her on the head. Finally, she drew away.

‘Ron, I’m really, really sorry about Scabbers…’ she sobbed.

‘Oh – well – he was old,’ said Ron, looking thoroughly relieved that she had let go of him. ‘And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now.’

Just then, Dean rounded the corner. ‘Hey, it’s a party in the hall,’ he said as he saw them. ‘Whoa, you all look terrible,’ he added once he got closer to them.

‘It’s been a long day,’ said Sherlock.

‘I’ll say.’

‘Dean, why do you stink of whiskey?’ asked Hermione, waving her hand in front of her nose.

‘Oh, that’s not me. Cas had his first adventure with some firewhiskey today,’ said Dean.

‘You’re joking!’ said Ron, shocked.

‘Nope. He was a mess, falling all over the place. I left him with his brother a minute ago. I hope they get rid of the Dementors soon,’ he added with a slight frown. ‘Let’s go inside, John looks like he’s about to drop.’

 

Since Black’s latest break-in, it had gotten even harder to visit Hagrid in the evenings, so the best chance they had to speak to him was during Care of Magical Creatures.

He seemed numb with shock during the Gryffindor and Slytherin lesson.

‘’S all my fault. Got all tongue-tied They was all sittin’ there in black robes an’ I kep’ droppin’ me notes and forgettin’ all them dates yeh looked up fer me, Hermione. An’ then Lucius Malfoy stood up an’ said his bit, an’ the Committee jus’ did exactly what he told ‘em… Mycroft was furious, o’ course, but not much he could do.’

‘There’s still the appeal!’ said Ron. ‘Don’t give up yet, we’re working on it!’

‘’S no good, Ron,’ said Hagrid sadly as he walked them up to the castle. ‘That Committee’s in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket. I’m jus’ gonna make sure the rest o’ Beaky’s time is the happiest he’s ever had. I owe him that…’

He turned back to his cabin once they reached the castle steps, his face buried in his handkerchief.

‘Look at him blubber!’

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors.

‘Have you ever seen anything so pathetic?’ said Malfoy. ‘And he’s supposed to be our teacher!’

The three boys made furious moves towards him, but Hermione got there first – SMACK!

She had slapped Malfoy around the face with all the strength he could muster.

Malfoy staggered and the rest of them looked flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again.

‘Don’t you _dare_ call Hagrid pathetic, you foul – you _evil –‘_

 _‘_ Hermione!’ said Ron, trying to grab her hand.

‘Get _off,_ Ron!’ Hermione pulled out her wand.

Malfoy stepped backward, and Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered.

‘C’mon,’ Malfoy muttered, the three of them disappearing into a passageway to the dungeons.

‘ _Hermione!’_ Ron said again, both stunned and impressed.

‘Harry, you’d better beat him in the Quidditch final!’ Hermione said shrilly. ‘You just better had, because I can’t stand it if Slytherin win!’

‘We’re due in Charms,’ John reminded them. ‘We’d better go.’

‘You’re late, boys!’ said Professor Flitwick as they entered the classroom.

John felt an odd vibration behind him and turned, but there was nothing there. ‘Wait,’ he said, ‘where’s Hermione?’

‘She was right behind us,’ said Ron, frowning.

‘That’s weird,’ Harry said. ‘Maybe she went to the bathroom or something?’

But she didn’t turn up all lesson. They’d split up into pairs and practice Cheering Charms on each other. Neville only managed to produce a weak chuckle out of John, but several times, John heard Sherlock’s laugh across the classroom. He turned every time to see Sherlock doubling over, eyes creasing at the corners.

They all left the classroom in a very good mood, but Hermione wasn’t at lunch either.

Sherlock and Castiel left for Transfiguration, while the rest of them hurried up to Gryffindor Tower.

‘You don’t think Malfoy did something to her?’ said Ron anxiously.

They scrambled through the portrait hole into the common room, where they found Hermione fast asleep at her table, head resting on an open Arithmancy book.

Harry prodded her awake.

‘Wh-what?’ said Hermione, waking with a start. ‘Is it time to go? Which lesson have we got now?’

‘Divination, but not for another twenty minutes,’ said Harry. ‘Hermione, why didn’t you come to Charms?’

‘What? Oh, no!’ Hermione squeaked. ‘I forgot to go to Charms!’

‘How could you forget?’ John asked, confused. ‘You were with us till we were right outside the classroom.’

‘You know what, Hermione?’ said Ron. ‘I reckon you’re cracking up. You’re trying to do too much.’

‘No, I’m not!’ Hermione insisted, brushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘I just made a mistake, that’s all. I’d better go to Flitwick and say sorry… See you in Divination!’

Hermione joined them at the foot of the ladder to Professor Trelawney’s classroom twenty minutes later. ‘I can’t believe I missed Cheering Charms!’ she said. ‘And I bet they come up in our exams. Proessor Flitwick hinted they might.’

Together they climbed the ladder into the stuffy tower room. Glowing on every table was a crystal ball full of pearly white mist. They all sat together at one of the tables.

‘I thought we weren’t starting crystal balls till next term,’ Ron muttered.

‘Don’t complain, this means we’ve finished palmistry,’ Harry muttered back. ‘I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands.’

‘Good day to you,’ said a familiar, misty voice, and Professor Trelawney made her usual dramatic entrance from the shadows. ‘I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned,’ she said, seating herself by the fire and gazing around. ‘The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice.’

Hermione snorted. ‘Well, honestly… “the fates have informed her”… who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!’ she said, not troubling to lower her voice.

‘Crystal-gazing is a particularly refined art,’ Professor Trelawney continued as if she had not heard Hermione. ‘I do not expect any of you to See when you peer into the Orb’s infinite depths. Although…’ she trailed off and looked over at John, who signed resignedly. ‘We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes, so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see by the end of class.’

And so they began. John was feeling very relaxed, as he always did in Divination class, and folded his arms on the table. He rested his chin on his arms and stared into the milky fog. He watched it twist and come together to form four different creatures. A stag, a rat, a dog, and something else that he couldn’t identify. He smiled, watching them frolic around.

‘See anything yet?’ Harry asked them, after about a quarter of an hour.

‘Yeah, there’s a burn on this table,’ said Ron, pointing. ‘Someone’s spilled their candle.’

‘It’s sort of like cloud watching. I’m seeing some woodland creatures,’ said John. ‘Maybe I’m going to a teddy-bear picnic.’ 

‘This is such a waste of time,’ Hermione hissed. ‘I could be practising something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms-‘

Professor Trelawney rustled over to them. ‘Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?’ she murmured.

‘I don’t need help,’ Ron whispered. ‘It’s obvious what this means. There’s going to be loads of fog tonight.’

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

‘Now, really!’ said Professor Trelawney. ‘You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!’ She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. ‘There is something here!’ she whispered. ‘Something moving… but what is it?’

John was still watching the animals, however, they were moving differently, more urgently now.

‘My dear…’ Professor Trelawney breathed, gazing up at Harry. ‘It is here, plainer than ever before… my dear, stalking towards you, growing ever closer… the Grim!’

Parvati and Lavender gasped quietly.

John frowned. ‘That’s not the Grim,’ he said, squinting at the crystal ball. ‘It’s a dog, obviously, but it’s not the Grim.’

‘Whatever do you mean, dear boy?’ Professor Trelawney asked.

John was strongly reminded of their first lesson with tea leaves. ‘Look, the dog is protecting the stag from this rat thing that keeps attacking it. And there’s a big thing over here. I’m not sure what it is, but it looks like it’s waiting for something.’

Professor Trelawney looked at him, bewildered. ‘Perhaps you have something of an overactive imagination, Mr Watson. This is definitely the Grim and only the Grim.’

John sat back in his chair, dejected.

‘Oh, for goodness’ _sake!’_ Hermione said loudly. ‘This is _ridiculous!_ John is a _real_ Seer, why aren’t you listening to him?’

‘It’s fine, Hermione,’ John muttered. ‘I’m not a real Seer, it’s fine.’

Professor Trelawney stood up straight, surveying Hermione with unmistakeable anger. ‘I am sorry to say that from the moment you arrived in my classroom, my _dear_ , it has been apparent that you don’t have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don’t remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly Mundane.’

There was a moment’s silence, then-

‘Fine!’ said Hermione, suddenly getting up and cramming _Unfogging the Future_ back in her bag. ‘Fine!’ she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and almost knocking Ron off his chair. ‘I give up! I’m leaving!’ She strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder.

Slowly, John rose from his own seat. ‘That was uncalled for,’ he said quietly, also packing away his book. ‘As a teacher, your job is to guide and nurture. Calling your students names isn’t even close to appropriate.’ He lingered by the crystal ball for a second, then followed Hermione out. The trapdoor closed itself once he’d stepped off the ladder, and set off to find Hermione.

She was sat with her head in her hands half way down the stairs.

‘Are you okay?’ John asked, sitting down beside her.

She sniffed and ran her hands through her, but said nothing.

‘Maybe Ron’s right, maybe you are doing too much. Far be it for me to tell you what to do, but maybe you don’t need Muggle Studies?’ he suggested.

Hermione gave a weak chuckle.

‘Think about it?’

‘I’ll think about it,’ she conceded. ‘Don’t quit Divination though, John. You really are an incredible Seer. I’ve seen it for myself.’

John smiled. ‘That’s very nice of you, Hermione, but I’ll believe that when I see it – no pun intended.’

Hermione shook her head.

‘Let’s go back to the common room,’ said John. ‘We can practice our Cheering Charms, what do you think?’

‘That sounds good.’

 

The Easter holidays brought a mountain of homework in the lead up to exams, for Hermione more than anyone else.

Ron took over responsibility for Buckbeak’s appeal, and was just as likely to be found poring over books about Hippogriffs as he was his own work. Sherlock, too, was spending a lot of time writing and receiving letters, mostly discussing strategy with Mycroft.

Castiel, though he too had a lot of work to do, was suddenly trapped in the hospital wing with a rush of people breaking down from stress.

Harry had Quidditch practice in all his free time, and Dean flitted around between them, finding any excuse not to work.

John ended up spending a lot of his time alone. He wasn’t having much trouble with his homework, so he amused himself by listening to Oliver Wood repeating to Harry that he must only catch the Snitch if they were fifty points ahead, over and over again.

The night before the match saw everyone piled into the Gryffindor common room. Even Hermione put away her homework for the night, unable to concentrate with all the noise.

Fred and George were even louder than usual, cracking jokes and playing tricks on people.

John laughed along with them, cheeks aching, when Sherlock sat beside him.

‘How are you feeling?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Fine, why?’

‘Not nervous, or anything?’

‘Should I be?’ John was taken aback by the attentiveness Sherlock was showing him, then he realised why. ‘Oh, don’t start with that again,’ he tutted. ‘Just because I’m in a good mood doesn’t mean we’re definitely going to win.’

‘But-‘

‘Just leave it, will you?’ John got up and went over to Hermione.

Sherlock sighed.

‘It doesn’t seem like it’s going well,’ said Castiel, coming up behind him, sipping a glass of water.

‘I admit, I wasn’t expecting him to fight it this much. I thought he was coming around.’

‘I’m not all that surprised,’ said Cas. ‘Considering everything Professor Trelawney has said to him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Wait, he hasn’t told you?’

‘Told me what?’

Cas took another nervous sip of water. ‘She’s been telling him he’s wrong every time he says something in Divination, and he wasn’t exactly confident to begin with.’

‘What?’ said Sherlock. ‘How do you know this?’

‘Seamus told me when he was in the hospital wing a few days ago. He really hasn’t said something?’

‘No, he’s never said anything.’ Sherlock shivered.

The common room quietened down once the team went to bed. Sherlock stayed with John again, and Dean and Cas fell asleep in chairs in the common room.

John was almost too excited to eat breakfast the next morning, and led the way down to the stands, meeting Molly Hooper along the way.

‘Molly!’ he said. ‘Sitting with us today?’

‘Oh, no, John, I’m sitting with Ernie today. We’re cheering for Gryffindor, though!’ She hurried away.

They settled into seats just as the match kicked off, with Gryffindor gaining possession immediately.

‘Alicia Spinnett of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goalposts,’ Lee Jordan announced. ‘Quaffle intercepted by Warrington. Warrington tearing up the pitch – nice Bludger work there by George Weasley. Warrington drops the Quaffle, it’s caught by Johnson. Gryffindor back in possession – nice swerve around Montague – SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!’

Angelina was then nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint smashed into her.

Fred Weasley threw his Beater’s bat at Flint in retaliation, hitting him on the back of the head and causing him to bloody his nose on the handle of his broom.

John bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

Madam Hooch called a penalty for both teams. Gryffindor scored, but Slytherin did not.

The teams were quite evenly matched and Lee was having trouble keeping up.

‘Gryffindor in possession – no Slytherin in possession – no! – Gryffindor back in possession! It’s Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she’s streaking up the pitch – THAT WAS DELIBERATE!’

Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Katie, but grabbed her head instead of the Quaffle.

Madam Hooch awarded Gryffindor another penalty, which Katie took easily.

‘THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING-‘

‘Jordan, if you can’t commentate in an unbiased way-!’

‘I’m telling it like it is, Professor!’

Harry then tricked Malfoy and both Slytherin Beaters with a dive, drawing Malfoy away from the Snitch, whilst also causing the Beaters to collide with each other.

Slytherin did manage to score a goal, but the match rapidly deteriorated as Slytherin began doing just about anything to gain control of the Quaffle.

One of the Beaters hit Alicia with his club, again eliciting retaliation from one of the Weasley twins.

Penalties were awarded to both teams, with Gryffinor being the only one to score once again.

In response to this, the Slytherin Beaters aimed both Bludgers at Wood. They both hit him, one after the other, knocking the wind out of him.

Another penalty and another goal put Gryffindor sixty points ahead. If Harry caught the Snitch now, Gryffindor would win the Cup.

John’s breath caught in his chest as Harry went into a dive, a real one this time. Everyone in the stands rose to their feet, then cried out in anger.

Malfoy, who had been following Harry, threw himself forward and grabbed the tail of Harry’s broom slowing him down.

‘YOU CHEATING SCUM!’ Lee was howling through the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall’s reach. ‘YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B-‘

Professor McGonagall didn’t even bother to tell him off. She was shaking her fist at Malfoy. Her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously.

The Gryffindor team were now beginning to lose concentration, as angry as they were about the Slytherins’ dirty tactics.

Angelina had the Quaffle and the entire Slytherin team, minus Malfoy, formed a block in front of her. Harry shot towards them like a bullet, scattering them and allowing Angelina to score.

A gasp ran through the stands. Malfoy had gone into a dive of his own, and Harry raced towards him. It was close, but I the end, Malfoy’s Nimbus was no match for Harry’s Firebolt.

John watched as Harry knocked Malfoy’s arm away, then raised his arm in the air.

The stadium erupted into cheer and stamping as the team converged on Harry.

John jumped up and down, screaming and cheering, completely caught up in the joy of the win. He grabbed Sherlock and hugged him tightly, still jumping excitedly. He didn’t notice Sherlock flush pink, then rushed the pitch with everyone else, to celebrate with the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone. Thanks to Angel_of_Darkness4444, Free_Will_Fellowship and hhhelcat for the comments. See you again soon.


	13. Professor Trelawney's Prediction

Professor Trelawney’s Prediction

The euphoria at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted well into sunny June, but died down at the start of exams. Even Dean finally settled down to do some work, though Sherlock was still thoroughly disinterested.

They received a note from Hagrid informing them of Buckbeak’s appeal date. It was just after their exams and an executioner was coming.

‘But that sounds like they’ve already decided!’ Ron cried. ‘I’ve spent _ages_ reading up stuff for him, they can’t just ignore it!’

Transfiguration was the first exam they all had together. They had to turn a teapot into a tortoise. Sherlock’s, of course, was perfect. As was Hermione’s, though she insisted on finding fault with it. Castiel’s was almost exactly right, the only thing wrong with it was that its skin was smooth rather than scaled.

John looked sadly at his. He’d managed to get it to grow legs and a shell, but try as he might, he could not get rid of its handle and spout.

After a hasty lunch, they hurried up to Professor Flitwick’s classroom for the Charms exam. They were indeed tested on Cheering Charms, but John felt confident with his after the practice he’d had with Hermione. Harry overdid his a little and Ron spent the following hour in fits of hysterical laughter.

The next morning was Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid. He provided a large tub of fresh Flobberworms and told them that, to past the test, the Flobberworms had to still be alive by the end of the hour. Since Flobberworms flourished best if left to their own devices, it was the easiest exam they’d ever sat. Though there was nothing much to do, John began to feel an anxious churning in his stomach.

They had Potions that afternoon and Castiel looked very pale as they waited outside. He kept as far away from the cauldron as possible, and the fact that he fought through a panic attack during the exam was success enough for him.

Fortunately, they had Astronomy that night, which was easily one of Castiel’s favourite subjects. John was also surprised at how well he’d done in Astronomy, almost completely filling out his star chart.

Wednesday morning was History of Magic. John found that he knew the answers to all of the questions, though he was shaking so badly he could barely hold his quill. He got the feeling that his writing wasn’t quite legible. Thankfully the shaking had calmed down by their Herbology exam that afternoon. There were no accidents with any of the tools, or with the Venomous Tentacula.

Finally, they were on their last day of exams, beginning with Defence Against the Dark Arts. John had not slept at all the night before. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he felt his heart pounding in his chest and he couldn’t quite catch his breath. He’d tried gazing into the fire, but again, nothing happened. He put it down to exam nerves and spent the rest of the night studying his notes. He managed to pull himself together in time for the exam.

It was an obstacle course of all the creatures they’d studied that year, out in the grounds. John made it all the way through, to a Boggart inside an old trunk. Again, it did not show John his fear. This time it showed him a sort of floating orb, and he left feeling very confused.

The Boggart left Sherlock trembling slightly, and Castiel fell out of the trunk crying, but he’d defeated it.

‘That was excellent, Castiel,’ Professor Lupin said kindly. ‘You’ve done really well.’

It affected Hermione worst of all. She burst out of the trunk screaming.

‘Hermione!’ said Lupin, startled. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘P-P-Professor McGonagall!’ Hermione gasped. ‘She told me I’d failed everything!’

Ron was slightly inclined to laugh at Hermione’s Boggart, but an argument was averted by the sight that met them at the top of the castle steps.

Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly, was standing there, staring out at the grounds. Mycroft was stood beside him.

‘Hello, there, Harry!’ said Fudge. ‘Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry.

‘Lovely day,’ said Fudge, casting an eye over the lake. ‘Pity…pity…’ He sighed deeply and looked at Harry. ‘I’m here in an unpleasant mission, Harry. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a mad Hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in.’

‘Need I remind you that we do not yet know the results of the appeal, Minister?’ Mycroft said stiffly.

‘Yes, yes. Do relax, Mycroft,’ Fudge said dismissively.

Just then, John felt horribly nauseous and put a hand to his stomach.

‘John?’ said Sherlock.

John heaved and clapped a hand over his mouth, then ran inside to find a bathroom.

Sherlock chased after John, bumping into Dean as he came out of the door.

Dean looked utterly bewildered as they raced past him. ‘You think they have something against me? They’re always running away from me,’ he joked. ‘Oh, hey, Minister.’

‘Dean, my boy,’ said Fudge, clearly grateful for the distraction. ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘On my way to Care of Magical Creatures exam.’

‘Excellent, excellent. Well, we’d better be on our way. Good luck in your exams.’ He and Mycroft went into the castle.

‘What was that about?’ Dean asked.

‘He’s here to witness Buckbeak’s execution,’ Hermione said bitterly.

‘What? Did he lose the appeal already?’

‘No.’

‘Oh,’ he said, understanding what she meant. ‘Well, there’s not much we can do now. What exams do you guys still have?’

‘I’ve finished,’ said Cas. ‘I’m going up to the hospital wing to assist Madam Pomfrey.’

‘We’ve got Divination,’ said Harry, indicating to himself, John and Ron.

‘Muggle Studies,’ said Hermione.

‘But you’re Muggle-born, aren’t you?’ said Dean, confused again. ‘Why do you need Muggle Studies?’

‘I thought it would be interesting.’

Dean shook his head. ‘Well, good luck, I guess.’ He walked off and they all went to their final exams.

John and Sherlock were already outside Divination when Harry and Ron got there. John was looking quite pale and sweaty, but insisted he could do the exam. ‘I’ll feel fine when it’s all over,’ he said.

‘Forgot you took Divination,’ Ron said to Sherlock, who shrugged.

‘She’s seeing us all individually,’ said Sherlock.

‘Sherlock Holmes,’ a misty voice called from above their heads.

Sherlock took a deep breath and ascended the ladder. He emerged about twenty minutes later looking thoroughly amused.

‘How’d it go?’ asked Ron.

‘Abysmally,’ said Sherlock. ‘I’m certainly no Seer. I’m not likely to be taking it next year.’

‘Ronald Weasley,’ Trelawney called.

‘Good luck,’ Sherlock smirked.

Ron climbed up the ladder and Sherlock turned to John. ‘I’ll meet you later. I want to go and find Mycroft.’

‘Yeah, fine,’ John shrugged ‘See you later.’

Sherlock walked off.

Ron returned not long after.

‘How was it?’ Harry asked.

‘Rubbish,’ said Ron. ‘Couldn’t see a thing, so I made some stuff up. Don’t think she was convinced, though…’

‘Meet you in the common room,’ Harry muttered, as Trelawney called his name.

Ron left the same way Sherlock had and Harry climbed the ladder, leaving John alone on the landing.

His stomach was still churning and he tried to calm it with some slow, deep breaths. It worked for a while, but it lurched horribly when the trapdoor opened again.

Harry came down looking shaken and immediately ran off, seemingly having forgotten that John was there.

‘John Watson,’ Trelawney called.

John steadied himself and climbed up into the hot room. The sweet scent cleared his head and calmed his stomach. He made his way over to Trelawney, who was sitting at a table with a large crystal ball.

‘Good day, my dear,’ she said softly. ‘If you would kindly gaze into the Orb… take your time, now… then tell me what you see within it.’

‘Is Harry okay?’ he asked as he settled down in the chair opposite her.

‘Oh, yes, he’s fine. He just had quite a vivid daydream, I believe.’

John nodded, then crossed his arms on the table, chin resting on his arms. He stared into the swirling fog. _It’s like cloud watching,_ he reminded himself. The fog began to clump together to form shapes.

‘What do you see?’ Trelawney prompted.

‘I see a- I see a dog,’ he said. ‘It’s walking along…’

‘Is it the Grim?’ Trelawney whispered.

‘No – no I – there’s something else.’

‘What is it?’

‘It – it’s Crookshanks! Hermione’s cat. They’re playing together and walking towards – something,’ John  squinted and watched the fog form more shapes.

‘Something?’

‘Yeah, er, it’s big, it has branches… I think it’s the Whomping Willow, and there’s a full moon…’ John’s head pulsated and he squeezed his eyes shut.

‘I think that will do for now,’ said Trelawney. ‘You did well. Perhaps a nice dinner would be best now, though I would suggest you hurry. I sense that it has already started.’

John climbed down the ladder and his head felt as though it was in a clamp. The pressure was almost unbearable.

Down at dinner, Sherlock dropped his cutlery as the pain shot through his head.

‘What is it?’ said Hermione.

‘Something’s happening with John,’ he said, looking towards the Entrance Hall.

‘Should we go and find him?’ she said.

‘I- no, I don’t think so,’ Sherlock said uncertainly, eyelids fluttering. ‘I need to go to Hagrid’s with you. I don’t think he knows he’s doing it, but he keeps showing me Hagrid’s cabin.’  

Once dinner was finished, they hid out in the Entrance Hall. They waited until they were sure that everyone had gone, then threw on the Invisibility Cloak, that Hermione had retrieved from behind the statue of the one-eyed witch. Then they slipped out of the front door.

‘We’re under the Cloak,’ Harry hissed when they arrived at Hagrid’s. ‘Let us in.’

‘Yeh shouldn’t have come!’ Hagrid whispered, but stepped aside to let them in.

Mycroft was inside, looking through the notes that Ron had sent Hagrid. He looked up and frowned slightly when they took off the Cloak. ‘I ought to teach you the Disillusionment Charm. You won’t all be able to fit under that forever.’

Hermione went rummaging around in Hagrid’s cupboard for things to make tea with. Sherlock was beginning to wonder why he was here, when Hermione let out a shriek.

‘Ron! I – I don’t believe it – it’ _Scabbers!’_

Ron gaped at her. ‘What are you talking about?’

Hermione carried a milk jug over to the table and turned it upside-down. With a squeak and much scrambling to stay inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, wondering why on earth everyone was fussing over a rat, and a very skinny, ill-looking rat at that.

Sherlock indicated with a blink and a slight shake of his head that he would explain later. When he looked at Scabbers, the rat was shimmering before his eyes, like a mirage.

Ron scooped him up, but he continued to struggle, desperate to get free.

‘It’s okay, Scabbers!’ said Ron. ‘No cats! There’s nothing here to hurt you!’

‘You must leave,’ Mycroft said suddenly. ‘They’re coming.’

Harry whipped around and saw the Minister, Dumbledore a member of the Committee, and an executioner.

Sherlock had already picked up the Cloak and arranged it over the four of them, as Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket.

Hagrid let them out the back door and it was very surreal seeing Buckbeak tied up in the pumpkin patch.

They started up the lawn, going as fast as they could while still keeping the Cloak on. Ron, however, was still having trouble keeping Scabbers still. He was twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Ron’s hand.

They heard Hagrid’s door open again, accompanied by a rumbling of men’s voices.

‘Come on, Ron!’ Hermione hissed. ‘I don’t want to listen…’

‘Okay – Scabbers, shut up, everyone’ll hear us – ‘

Scabbers was squealing loudly, though not loudly enough to cover the sound of the voices behind them.

There was a sudden silence and then, without warning, the unmistakeable swish and thud of an axe.

‘They did it!’ Hermione whispered to Harry. ‘I d-don’t believe it – they did it!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks again to Angel_of_Darkness4444, theforestprincex, cypress7 and hhhelcat for the comments. I hope everyone's enjoying themselves and I'll see you all again soon.


	14. Cat, Rat and Dog

Cat, Rat and Dog

The sun was casting its last rays over the grounds as the four of them stood, transfixed with horror, under the Cloak. A wild howling came from behind them. It was Hagrid.

Sherlock felt very strange indeed, and John… John knew.

The silence was then broken by Ron shouting, ‘Ouch! He bit me!’

They snapped back to reality by Scabbers wriggling with all his might, trying to break free of Ron’s grip.

‘What’s the _matter_ with him?’ Ron gasped.

A moment later they found out. There in the darkness, slinking towards them, was Crookshanks.

‘Crookshanks!’ Hermione moaned. ‘No, go away, Crookshanks!’

He ignored her and came closer.

Scabbers slipped between Ron’s fingers and, before they could stop him, Ron threw off the Cloak and chased after him.

Harry, Hermione and Sherlock followed, pulling off the Cloak so it would be easier to run.

Ron dived on Scabbers and caught him in his hands.

Crookshanks was not far away, but just as they were about to throw the Cloak back on Sherlock felt his scalp prickle and he turned to see an enormous, jet-black dog bounding towards them. It too was shimmering, just like Scabbers. It jumped on Harry, using him as a springboard to launch itself at Ron. It fastened its jaws around Ron’s arm and dragged him away.

They made after him, but the three of them were knocked into the air. Sherlock landed awkwardly on his left arm and felt it crunch beneath him, followed by a blinding pain. Trying to move it confirmed that it was broken. He looked up to see what had hit them and groaned. It was the Whomping Willow.

 

Back up at the castle, John was stumbling around the corridor. It was like he was inside a crystal ball, barely able to see ahead of him and navigating the castle from memory. He felt a shiver run up his left arm. Tears were falling down his cheeks. Buckbeak had been executed. He was trying to figure out what he should do next, when he had a sudden urge to see Professor Lupin, but he wasn’t in when John opened the door to his office. He could barely feel his limbs and racing, thumping heart, and he could only hear his ragged breath. He supposed something horrible was happening to him but he couldn’t identify the sensation. Vague thoughts of having a drink of water crossed his mind, but whatever was in the flask on Lupin’s desk smelled awful, so John stuffed it in his pocket and left.

What now? What now? He thought over and over again.

Dean was talking to Professor McGonagall about his Transfiguration exam when he saw John stumbling down the corridor.

John briefly caught sight of Professor McGonagall before he tripped and fell over. She shimmered slightly and John squinted at her as Dean helped him to his feet.

‘We’ll finish this later, Winchester,’ said McGonagall. ‘You’d better get Watson up to the hospital wing.’

‘Come on,’ Dean said to John. ‘Let’s get you to Cas, he’ll know what to do.’ Dean held tightly onto John as they walked along, alarmed by his raspy breathing.

John allowed Dean to lead him along, very dazed and confused. Clouds and twisting shadows crossed his vision. He lost all awareness of where he was, and even that Dean was all but dragging him through the castle.

‘Cas!’ Dean called as he opened the door.

‘Dean?’ Cas emerged from behind a screen, hastily shoving phials into the pockets of his coat. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I don’t know, I found him like this.’

Cas came over, face clouding over in concern. ‘John, can you hear me?’

John didn’t respond. He hadn’t heard Cas speak at all, but a sudden, black sense of dread broke through his trance and he yanked away from Cas viciously.

‘Where am I?’ he said wildly. ‘I have to find Sherlock.

‘John, wait-‘

He dashed from the room, closely followed by Cas and Dean.

They barely kept up with John  as he sprinted out into the grounds.

‘Stop!’ Cas called, but he did not stop, nor slow down.

He led them past Hagrid’s hut, and up to the Whomping Willow. They skidded to a halt as they saw it, but not before one of the branches slice across Cas’s cheek.

It wasn’t deep, but soon his face was dripping. He quickly healed it and they both watched, open-mouthed, as John weaved through the branches as if they weren’t moving at all, then disappeared down a hole in the base of the trunk.

Dean doubled over to catch his breath. ‘Man’s fast,’ he wheezed.’

‘How are we going to get past this?’ Cas asked, eyeing the tree warily.

‘Easy,’ said Dean. He straightened up and pointed his wand. ‘ _Immobulus!’_ he shouted.

The Whomping Willow drooped and the branches shivered slightly, but allowed Cas and Dean to pass.

Cas slid down the hole first and found himself in a low tunnel. Dean came down behind him, stumbling slightly.

‘Come on, I can hear John,’ said Cas. He lit his wand with, ‘ _Lumos,’_ and stooped to get down the tunnel.

They neared a small hole and heard shrieking.

‘That sounds like Hermione,’ Cas said nervously.

They crawled out of the hole and looked around a dusty room. It was very dim and chunks had been torn out of the furniture around them.

There was more shrieking above them and some muffled voices. They ran towards the sounds, burst into a large room, and were confronted by a very strange sight indeed.

Ron was lying on an old four-poster bed. His leg stuck out at an odd angle and he was clutching Scabbers the rat.

John was on all fours on the other side of the room, Sherlock beside him desperately shaking his shoulder.

Harry and Hermione were facing Professor Lupin, who was holding three wands, and Crookshanks was rubbing up against the leg of Sirius Black.

Dean immediately pointed his wand at Black.

Cas didn’t know where to go first. Ron with his broken leg, Sherlock whose arm appeared to be injured, or John. Then John collapsed into Sherlock and started convulsing.

‘What’s happening to him?’ Sherlock asked as Cas rushed over. Before, he’d felt an annoying buzz in the back of his mind, but now it was eerily silent.

Cas knelt down and gently pulled open one of John’s eyes. It was milky white. ‘I think I have an idea,’ he said, checking the other eye. ‘When John first started presenting signs of his power, I went to the library to try and find any information about Seers. There wasn’t much, but one book detailed what they called a ‘Prophetic Trance’. The Seer was caught in a vision and was drawn further away by more, successive visions. The Seer’s mind was lost in the future, unable to return to the present. No one knows why this happened, but if I were to guess, reading the accounts suggests that a particularly distressing vision set it off.’

‘Does that mean he- he’s gone?’

Cas looked from John to Sherlock and back again. ‘Not necessarily,’ he said. ‘Maybe you can bring him back.’ He began positioning John as well as he could. ‘You have that connection with him. If we do this right you can still ground him.’ He put John’s head against Sherlock’s chest so he could hear his heartbeat. ‘Skin contact might be best,’ he muttered, helping Sherlock put his hand on John’s.

‘Now what?’ said Sherlock.

Cas pressed his lips together, thinking. ‘Talk to him,’ he said. ‘Maybe your voice can guide him back.’

Sherlock nodded. ‘John? John, can you hear me?’

For a moment, John’s body slackened, then resumed its violent shaking.

‘Keep going, it’s working,’ said Cas.

Just then, Dean said loudly, ‘Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?’

Cas left Sherlock alone to whisper to John, and went to tend to Ron.

Dean was holding his wand steady, and noticed that Lupin was standing beside Black, instead of preventing him from getting to Harry. ‘Anything to say, Professor?’ He sounded casual, but he did not lower his wand.

‘Don’t trust him!’ Hermione shrieked suddenly. ‘He’s been helping Black get into the castle, he wants Harry dead too – _he’s a werewolf!’_

Dean glanced at her. ‘Okay, but what’s being a werewolf got to do with it?’

‘You- you already knew?’ said Hermione, flabbergasted.

‘Duh. Are you telling me none of you noticed he was sick every full moon? Look, he’s got scars from before the Wolfsbane Potion.’

No one said anything.

‘Seriously? Come on, guys, Remus Lupin? The man’s name might as well be Werewold McWerewolf. Not exactly subtle, Prof.’

‘My middle name is John,’ Lupin said, surprise clear on his face.

Dean gave him an incredulous look. ‘Oh, sorry. Werewolf _John_ McWerewolf, can we get back to what’s important, please?

Lupin shivered slightly. ‘I have not been helping Sirius into the castle,’ he said quietly. ‘Nor do I want Harry dead, but I will not deny that I am a werewolf.’

Ron attempted to get up, but Cas pushed him back down and he whimpered in pain.

Lupin made towards Ron, looking concerned, but Cas pointed his wand directly at Lupin’s chest, coldly.

‘ _Get away from me, werewolf!’_ Ron gasped.

Lupin stopped dead. ‘You really are a bright bunch of students,’ he said.

‘If I’d been smarter, I would have told everyone what you are,’ Hermione spat.

‘How would that help?’ said Dean. He was ignored.

‘But they already know,’ said Lupin. ‘At least, the staff do.’

‘Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?’ Ron gasped ‘Is he mad?’

‘Some of the staff certainly thought so,’ said Lupin. ‘He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I am trustworthy- ‘

‘AND HE AS WRONG!’ Harry yelled. ‘YOU’VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!’

‘Oh my God, everyone needs to calm down!’ Dean said loudly. ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for all this.’

‘I have _not_ been helping Sirius,’ said Lupin, looking at Dean gratefully.

Harry hesitated, reassured by Dean’s calmness, but also his refusal to lower his wand. ‘If you haven’t been helping, then how did you know he was here?’ he said accusingly.

‘The map,’ said Lupin. ‘The Marauder’s Map. I was in my office examining it-‘

‘You know how to work it?’ Harry said suspiciously.

‘Of course I know how to work it. I helped write it. I’m Moony – that was my friends’ nickname for me at school.’

‘You _wrote-‘_

‘The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you and your friends might try to sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn’t I?’

‘Buckbeak lost?’ Dean interrupted. ‘Sorry, not the time. Continue,’ he said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

‘You might have been wearing your father’s Cloak, Harry-‘

‘How do you know about the Cloak?’

‘The number of times I’ve seen James disappear under it…’ said Lupin, waving an impatient hand. ‘The point is, even if you’re wearing the Invisibility Cloak you show up on the map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid’s cabin. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid and set off back towards the castle. But you were now accompanied by someone else.’

‘What? No, we weren’t,’ said Harry.

‘I couldn’t believe my eyes,’ said Lupin, ignoring the interruption. ‘I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?’

‘No one was with us!’

‘And then I saw another dot moving towards you, labelled Sirius Black… I saw him collide with you, I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow-‘

‘One of us!’ Ron said angrily. Some of his colour had returned now that Cas had bound his leg.

‘No, Ron,’ said Lupin. ‘Two of you.’ His eyes moved over Ron. ‘Do you think that I could have a look at that rat?’ he said evenly.

‘What’s Scabbers got to do with it?’

‘Everything,’ said Lupin. ‘Could I see him, please?’

Ron hesitated, the held Scabbers in clear view. He was thrashing desperately. Ron had to seize him by his long tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks hissed softly.

Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

‘What?’ said Ron, again. ‘What’s my rat got to do with anything?’

‘That’s not a rat,’ Sirius Black croaked suddenly.

‘What d’you mean – of course he’s a rat-‘

‘No, he’s not,’ said Lupin quietly. ‘He’s a wizard.’

‘An Animagus,’ said Black, ‘by the name of Peter Pettigrew.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone. Thanks to Angel_of_Darknes4444, theforestprincex, hhhelcat and Holy Trash Can for the comments.  
> Bet you guys are all wondering where I got to huh. Well my university does a creative writing exhibition every year and the girl that was supposed to be doing it dropped out so I got put on it right at the last minute and there was still a lot to do like casting, rehearsals, marketing, etc. It was a lot of work but I pulled it off and got the best ticket sales in years, so go me! Also I've finished all my assignments including my dissertation and, as of July, I will officially have a BA in Creative Writing, as well as a place on one of the best Masters courses in the country! Exciting news! Anyway, sorry for making you guys wait so long and I hope to see you again soon.


	15. Moony, Wortmail, Padfoot and Prongs

Sherlock had not been paying attention to what had been happening. His scalp prickled at the name ‘Peter Pettigrew’, but his whole attention was focused on John, so much so that even the pain in his arm had faded to a dull throb.

As he continued to mutter, John’s spasming body slowly relaxed. The lids closed over his glassy, white eyes, and his breathing slowed to a normal rhythm. Sherlock felt the heaviness and buzzing return to the far corners of his mind and he gave a great sigh of relief.

It was only then, with John sleeping comfortably in his lap, that he looked up at what was going on around him.

Ron was still gripping Scabbers tightly, while Professor Lupin and Sirius Black stared at him intently. Scabbers, Black and Lupin were all still shimmering. There was something he was still missing.

‘My three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month,’ Lupin was explaining. That’s right, he was a werewolf, Sherlock thought. ‘I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and I had to go home and see her… I was terrified they would all desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they worked out the truth… And they didn’t desert me at all. Instead they did something that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.’

‘Animagi,’ Sherlock breathed. ‘So that’s what you were trying to tell me,’ he murmured to John, who twitched slightly.

‘They couldn’t keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals,’ said Lupin. ‘A werewolf is only a danger to people. The Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack were both constructed the year I came to Hogwarts. Both were designed to keep me in here, and other people out. Before the invention of the Wolfsbane Potion, I became a fully-fledged monster every month, and this was the only way I could safely attend Hogwarts. But my friends would sneak out of the castle and transform. Peter – the smallest – could slip beneath the Willow’s attacking branches and touch the knot on the trunk that freezes it, so they could all come down the tunnel and join me. Incidentally, Dean, how did you get in?’

‘I think John could see when the branches were coming so he kinda just ran in. Me and Cas used the Freezing Charm though,’ said Dean.

‘Oh, really? That works?’ said Lupin.

‘Yeah, it does.’

‘Remus, please,’ Black croaked.

‘Yes, yes, as I was saying. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind was less so. Now that we could all transform, we were soon leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the grounds and the village. Sirius and James became such large animals that they were able to keep a werewolf in check. No Hogwarts students found out as much about the grounds as we did, and that’s how we came to write the Marauder’s Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot, Peter is Wormtail, James was Prongs.’

‘That was really dangerous!’ Hermione cried. ‘What if you’d given the others the slip, and bitten someone?’

‘A thought that still haunts me,’ Lupin said heavily. ‘And there were near misses. Many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless. Carried away by our own cleverness. I sometimes feel guilty about betraying Dumbledore’s trust… he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other Headmaster would have done so, he had no idea I was breaking the rules. He never knew I had led three other students into becoming Animagi illegally.’

‘Don’t blame yourself for that, Professor,’ said Castiel. ‘It sounds like it was their choice to do that. I doubt they regret it.’

Black looked at Castiel in surprise, then nodded. ‘He’s right, Remus.’

Lupin smiled faintly. ‘All this year, I’ve been telling myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius is an Animagus. But I was too cowardly. It would mean admitting that I betrayed his trust, and his trust meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts and gave me a job, when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am.  I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using Dark Arts he learnt from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it… so, in a way, Snape’s been right about me all along.’

‘Snape?’ said Black harshly. ‘What’s Snape got to do with it?’

‘He’s here, Sirius. He’s teaching here as well.’ Lupin looked at Harry. ‘Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He had his reasons, you see… Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me-‘

Black made a derisive noise. ‘It served him right,’ he sneered. ‘Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to… hoping he could get us expelled…’

‘Severus was very interested in where I went every month,’ Lupin told them. ‘We were in the same year and we – er – didn’t like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James’s talent on the Quidditch pitch… anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening. Sirius thought it would be – er – amusing to tell Snape that all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree-trunk with a long stick, and he’d be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it – if he’d got as far as this house, he’d have met a fully-grown werewolf – but your father heard about what Sirius had done and went after Snape. He pulled him back, at great risk to his own life. Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden to tell anyone by Dumbledore, but from that time on, he knew what I was.’

‘So that’s why Snape doesn’t like you,’ Harry said slowly, ‘because he thought you were in on the joke?’

‘That’s right,’ sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointed directly at Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone. Thanks to OtakuElf and Holy Trash Can for the comments. This one's a bit short guys but don't worry, the next one's a bit longer. See you again soon.


	16. The Servant of Lord Voldemort

Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Harry jumped, and Sherlock felt a sudden movement from John. He gasped loudly and clutched at the front of Sherlock’s robes, eyes wide open. The robes pulled on Sherlock’s shoulder and he winced at the pain.

‘Sh-Sherlock,’ he gasped. ‘Where am I?’

‘You’re in the Shrieking Shack,’ Sherlock said calmly.

‘I was- I was gone for so long,’ John stammered. ‘So long…’

‘It’s okay John, it was only about twenty minutes.’

‘Twenty minutes?’ John sat up. ‘What year is it?’

‘Nineteen ninety-four.’

‘Ninety-four?’ He looked around the room.

Snape had tied Professor Lupin up and was now pointing his wand at Black.

Hermione was attempting to reason with Snape. ‘But if – if there _was_ a mistake-‘

‘BE QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!’ Snape shouted. ‘DON’T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!’ A few sparks shot out of his wand.

John scrambled to his feet. ‘Stop!’ he yelled, pushing himself between Snape and Black. ‘Stop, he’s innocent!’

‘Get out of the way, Watson,’ Snape snarled. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘But he didn’t do it, you have to listen to me!’

‘Why would I listen to the ramblings of a thirteen year-old, who was unconscious until a moment ago?’

‘Because it wasn’t him, it was-‘

‘ _Silencio!’_

John grabbed his throat, no sound coming out of his mouth.

‘There’ll be no more nonsense from you.’

‘You have to listen to him!’ Hermione shouted. ‘He’s a Seer!’

‘Ridiculous.’ Snape stepped closer to Black and John pulled on his robes in an attempt to slow him down.

‘Get out of it, Watson!’ Snape growled. There was a bang and John felt himself flying through the air, then hit the ground. There was screaming all around him until-

‘ _Expelliarmus!’_

Snape was blasted across the room, where he crumpled against the wall, knocked out.

Sherlock was on his feet, wand out. ‘That’s quite enough of that,’ he said calmly.

It seemed he hadn’t been the only one to try and Disarm Snape. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dean all had their wands aimed at him.

‘We attacked a teacher,’ Hermione whimpered.

‘Dude had it coming,’ Dean said savagely.

The cords binding Lupin loosened enough for him to free himself and help John up.

‘You’re hurt,’ John said, going over to Sherlock.

‘Not badly,’ said Sherlock, putting on a brave face.

‘Cas?’

Now that John wasn’t in the way, Cas was free to examine Sherlock properly. He poked Sherlock’s shoulder with his wand and frowned. ‘It’s dislocated. And broken. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to fix it.’

‘I’m sure I’ll survive,’ he said grimly.

‘John?’ said Professor Lupin.

They all turned to him.

‘You’re a Seer?’

John blushed, but nodded hesitantly.

‘Of course, I heard about what happened at Christmas but…’

‘It’s Trelawney,’ John finished.

‘Precisely.’

‘So, you know what happened?’ Sirius said eagerly, a light shining in his eyes that had not been there before.

‘I saw- I saw Lily and James,’ he said, avoiding Harry’s eyes. ‘And I saw… Where’s Scabbers?’ His gaze landed on Ron. ‘Peter Pettigrew.’

‘Come off it,’ Ron said weakly. ‘There are millions of rats. How are you supposed to know which one’s Pettigrew?’

John didn’t say anything. It was difficult to explain exactly how he knew and telling them that Scabbers shimmered in the same way Black and Lupin did wouldn’t prove it to them.

‘That’s a very good question, Sirius,’ Lupin frowned. ‘How _did_ you know he was here?’

Sirius took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out to show them.

It was the photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ the previous summer, and there, on Ron’s shoulder, was Scabbers.

‘Fudge,’ said Sirius. ‘When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me this paper. And there was Peter on the front page. I knew him at once… How many times had I seen him transform? The caption said that the boy would be going back to Hogwarts… To where Harry was.’

‘My God,’ Lupin said softly. ‘His front paw…’

‘What about it?’ said Ron defiantly.

‘He’s got a toe missing,’ said Sirius.

‘Of course,’ Lupin breathed, ‘so simple… so _brilliant_ … he cut it off himself?’

‘Just before he transformed,’ said Sirius. ‘When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I’d betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself, and sped down into the sewer with the other rats…’

‘Didn’t you ever hear, Ron?’ said Lupin. ‘The biggest part of Peter they found was his finger.’

‘Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He’s been in my family for ages-‘

‘Twelve years, in fact,’ said Lupin. ‘Didn’t you ever wonder why he was living so long?’

‘We- we’ve been taking good care of him.’

‘Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he? I’d guess he’s been losing weight since he heard Sirius was on the loose again…’

‘He’s been scared of that mad cat!’ said Ron, nodding towards Crookshanks, who was purring on the bed.

‘This cat isn’t mad,’ Sirius said hoarsely, reaching out to stroke Crookshanks’s fluffy head. ‘He’s the most intelligent of his kind that I’ve ever met. He recognised Peter for what he was straight away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me. Finally, I managed to communicate what I was after, and he’s been helping me…’

John smiled to himself. He had always liked Crookshanks.

‘He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn’t, so he stole passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me. As I understand it, he stole them from a boy’s bedside table.’

Harry didn’t know what to think, but Dean’s raised wand continued to reassure him. Though Dean was listening carefully and calmly, he had not moved his wand from Sirius once.

‘But Peter got wind of what was going on and ran for it,’ Sirius continued. ‘This cat – Crookshanks, did you call him? – told me Peter had left blood on the sheets. I suppose he bit himself… well, faking his own death had worked before…’

‘And why did he fake his death?’ Harry suddenly burst out furiously. ‘Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!’

‘No,’ said Lupin. ‘Harry-‘

‘And now you’re here to finish him off!’

‘Yes, I am,’ said Sirius, with an evil look at Scabbers.

‘The I should have let Snape take you!’ Harry shouted.

‘Harry,’ said Lupin, ‘don’t you see? All this time we’ve thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down – but it was the other way around. _Peter_ betrayed your mother and father – Sirius tracked _Peter_ down – ‘

Harry opened his mouth, but Dean cut across him before he could say anything. ‘I think we need some proof here,’ he said. ‘There are ways to make Animagi reveal themselves.’

‘Right you are, Dean,’ said Lupin. ‘Give me that rat, Ron. If he really is a rat, this won’t hurt him.’

Ron hesitated, but finally handed Scabbers to Lupin.

‘Ready, Sirius?’ said Lupin.

Sirius retrieved Snape’s wand and approached Lupin and the struggling rat. ‘Together?’ he said quietly.

‘I think so,’ said Lupin. ‘On the count of three. One – two – THREE!’

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands and Scabbers hit the floor. All of a sudden, where Scabbers had been, stood a very short, twitchy man. His eyes darted towards the door, but Dean had already positioned himself between the man and the exit. He smiled and waved.

‘Well, hello, Peter,’ Lupin said pleasantly, as though rats frequently turned into old school friends around him. ‘Long time, no see.’

John regarded Pettigrew with absolute disgust. He’d felt something similar before when looking at Scabbers, but not nearly so strong. An image of a red-headed woman flashed before his eyes. He gasped and squeezed them shut when he realised she was dead. Sherlock put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

‘It was definitely him, Harry,’ John said, voice slightly higher than usual. ‘It was him.’

‘Must be useful having a Seer around,’ Sirius commented.

‘We’ll see,’ John said grimly.

‘Professor Lupin?’ Hermione said timidly. ‘Can I say something?’

‘Certainly, Hermione,’ Lupin said courteously.

‘Well – Scabbers – I mean this, this man – he’s been sleeping in Harry’s dormitory for years. If he’s working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before?’

‘There!’ Pettigrew said shrilly, pointing at Hermione with his maimed hand. ‘Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry’s head! Why should I?’

‘I’ll tell you why,’ said Sirius. ‘Because you never did anything for anyone unless you can see what’s in it for you. You weren’t about to commit murder under Albus Dumbledore’s nose, for a wreck of a wizard who’d lost all his power, were you?’ Keeping an ear out for news, weren’t you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to re-join him…’

‘Er – Mr Black – Sirius?’ Hermione said. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn’t use Dark Magic?’

‘Dementors are blind,’ said Sherlock. They all turned to look at him. ‘They wouldn’t have been able to tell when he transformed.’

‘Animals have less complex emotions than humans,’ said Sirius, nodding at Sherlock. ‘I was skinny enough to fit through the bars as a dog and when I saw that Peter was at Hogwarts…’

‘You tricked the Dementors,’ Sherlock finished.

‘Yes. I came to Hogwarts and I’ve been living in the Forest ever since… Except when I came to watch Quidditch… you fly as well as your father did, Harry…’

‘Who’re you gonna believe, Harry?’ said Dean. ‘The guy who turns into a dog, the symbol of loyalty and trust, or the one that turns into a rat, the symbol of deceit.’

They looked at him incredulously.

‘We’re in the wizarding world, fellas,’ he shrugged. ‘Symbolism is everything.’

Sirius burst into raspy laughter. ‘I like this kid.’ He turned back to Harry, his laughter dying down. ‘You have to believe me, Harry. I would never have betrayed James and Lily. I would sooner have died.’

Harry nodded, finally believing him.

‘No!’ Pettigrew had fallen to his knees and shuffled towards Sirius.

Sirius kicked out. ‘There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,’ he said savagely. He rolled up his sleeves. ‘Shall we kill him together?’ he asked Lupin.

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Lupin, also rolling up his sleeves.

Pettigrew scrambled around to Ron. ‘Ron, haven’t I been a good friend, a good pet? You won’t let them kill me, Ron, will you?’

But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion. ‘I let you sleep in my _bed_ ,’ he said.

‘Kind boy… kind master… You won’t let them do it… I was your rat… I was a good pet.’

‘If you make a better rat than human, it’s not much to boast about, Peter,’ Sirius spat.

Pettigrew then turned to Hermione. ‘Sweet girl… clever girl… You won’t let them…’

Hermione backed away against the wall, horrified.

Pettigrew turned his head slowly towards Harry. ‘Harry… you look just like your father… just like him…’

‘HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?’ roared Sirius. ‘HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?’ He seized Pettigrew and threw him to the ground. ‘You sold Lily and James to Voldemort, do you deny it?’

‘He- he was taking over everywhere!’ gasped Pettigrew. ‘Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?’

‘What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who ever existed?’ said Sirius, a terrible fury on his face. ‘Only innocent lives, Peter!’

‘You don’t understand!’ whined Pettigrew. ‘He would have killed me, Sirius!’

‘THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!’

Sirius and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised.

‘You should have realised,’ Lupin said quietly, ‘if Voldemort didn’t kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter.’

‘No!’ Harry shouted, running in front of their wands. ‘You can’t kill him!’

‘Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents,’ Sirius snarled. ‘This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family.’

‘I know, but he should go to Azkaban. If you kill him, then there’s no proof that you’re innocent – and if anyone deserves that place, it’s him.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ said Dean.

‘Fine,’ said Lupin. ‘I’ll tie him up.’

‘But if you transform, we _will_ kill you. You agree, Harry?’

Harry nodded so that Pettigrew could see him, then Lupin tied him up with the same cords that Snape had used on him.

Castiel checked on Snape and determined that there would be no lasting effects.

‘ _Mobilicorpus,’_ Lupin muttered.

Snape was lifted up by what seemed like invisible strings attached to his neck, wrists and knees, and floated a few inches off the ground.

‘Two of us should be chained to this,’ said Sirius, nudging Pettigrew with his toe.

‘I’ll do it,’ said Lupin.

‘And me,’ said Ron, limping forwards.

Sirius conjured heavy manacles from thin air and chained the three of them together.

They made to leave, but Sirius stopped them and turned to John. ‘You said you saw James and Lily,’ he said.

John felt a sudden surge of emotion. A lump formed in his throat and tears pricked at his already bloodshot eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I saw them. I saw you begging them to switch Secret Keepers, and I saw them – I saw them the night they died.’ He sucked in a deep breath. ‘I could tell that – they loved you all very much.’ He trembled and cut himself off. ‘I- I can’t. I’m so tired and it hurts. I’m sorry.’

Sirius shook his head. ‘Don’t be. That’s more than enough.’ He cleared his throat and moved forward.

Crookshanks led the way, bottle-brush tail held high. As they left, John couldn’t help but feel that something was horribly, awfully wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back guys. Thanks to OtakuElf, hhhelcat, Holy Trash Can and theforestprincex for the comments :)  
> These next couple of chapters might take a tiny bit longer to type. Totally my fault, I spilled tea on my notebook and now I have to decipher some smudges. See you soon.


	17. The Dementor's Kiss

The Dementor’s Kiss

‘Are you okay?’ Sherlock whispered as they walked along the tunnel.

‘I feel like – like I’m forgetting something,’ said John. ‘Something important…’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, if I knew that…’

Sherlock winced as his arm brushed up against the tunnel wall. ‘You were very brave, you know. Standing up to Snape like that.’

John snorted. ‘You don’t have to make fun of me.’

‘I mean it.’

John looked back at him and flushed slightly at his serious expression. ‘It wasn’t that brave,’ he mumbled, embarrassed.

They climbed out from under the tree at last and Dean took a deep breath of the clear night air. John bumped into him, preoccupied.

‘Who, watch it,’ Dean said good-naturedly. ‘Whatcha got there?’

John had pulled a flask out of his pocket and was frowning at it. He flicked open the lid and sniffed it. ‘Eurgh,’ he groaned, disgusted. ‘No idea.’

‘Here, let me see.’ Dean took a whiff and his heart just about stopped as he recognised the smell. ‘Wolsfsbane,’ he murmured. He and John gave each other horrified looks and he turned towards Lupin, but it was already too late.

A cloud had shifted and they were bathed in moonlight. Lupin had gone rigid, then began to shake.

‘He’s safe though,’ Hermione squeaked as Sirius put an arm out to stop them.

Dean turned slowly, eyes wide with fear, holding up the flask. He shook his head.

‘Leave it to me,’ Sirius said urgently. ‘Just run! RUN!’ He transformed back into a giant, black dog, snarling at Lupin.

Lupin’s head was lengthening, as was his body. Hair sprouted out of his face and hands, which were curling into paws.

The werewolf reared and wrenched itself free of the manacles still binding it to Ron and Pettigrew.

Dean looked at the flask, then at Lupin, then sprang into action. ‘Sirius, pin him down!’ he yelled, sprinting directly towards the werewolf.

Sirius, in dog form, pounded along the ground and launched himself at the wolf, pulling it away from Ron with his teeth.

‘ _Dean, no!’_

But Dean did not hear Castiel’s shout. Sirius pushed Lupin down to the ground and Dean jumped on top of it. With his knees pinning the front legs and Sirius holding the back, all he had to do was avoid the snapping jaws. However, he overbalanced as he was trying to position the flask properly and it was knocked aside, spilling the potion uselessly into the grass.

Sirius then lost control of the hind legs and they were both thrown high into the air.

Dean landed on his front, the wind knocked out of him. Unable to move, the wolf tore over to him, and he felt a white-hot, searing pain rip across his back. A high-pitched wail escaped from him of its own accord as the werewolf clawed long, deep scratches into Dean’s back. Snarling, it opened its jaws, but Sirius smashed into it before it could take a bite.

Its attention successfully diverted, Sirius lured it away across the grounds.

Castiel, who had been watching from a distance, scrambled over to Dean, as did Hermione. He was already unconscious and bleeding heavily. He had been practicing healing cuts, but panic rose in his throat as the wounds refused to close.

‘What can we do?’ Hermione cried, pulling off her cloak and trying to staunch the flow with it.

‘There must be something,’ said Cas, struggling to keep his head clear. ‘I- I went to Madam Pomfrey after Snape’s lesson on werewolves that one time and she- she told me how to heal werewolf bites.’

‘But this isn’t the same thing,’ Hermione said shrilly.

‘I know, I know. But we have to try.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She said, uh, she said that you can seal bites with – with-‘ He suddenly plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small bowl, a dropper and – ‘Dittany! But not on its own. There’s something else.’

‘Hurry up!’

Cas shook his head. ‘I don’t know – I don’t – She said Dittany isn’t powerful enough on its own so you need to add… Silver. You need silver.’

‘But we don’t have any silver!’ By now, Hermione’s cloak was soaked red and Dean’s lips had turned white.

‘I have some,’ Cas said in a hushed voice. He pulled his necklace out of his shirt and bit his lip. He allowed himself a single moment to look at it before kissing it and putting it in the bowl. He pointed his wand and whispered, ‘ _Reducto.’_ The necklace disintegrated into a fine powder in the bottom of the bowl. Cas quickly poured the Dittany over it, mixed it together, then filled the dropper with the mixture. To his relief, the wounds closed slightly as he dropped the potion over them, however it was not enough to stem the flow of blood completely.

A few feet away, Pettigrew snatched up Lupin’s dropped wand. He blew Ron away and Harry disarmed him.

John was overwhelmed with a sudden need to get to Pettigrew, but before he could, the man transformed into a rat and disappeared into the grass.

‘ _No!’_ John screamed, diving after him, but it was useless. He was gone.

A burst of pain in John’s chest took his breath away and he fell to his knees. ‘He’s gone,’ he groaned.

‘We’ll just have to tell them what happened without Pettigrew,’ Sherlock said.

‘No, no, no, you don’t understand.’

‘What don’t I understand?’

‘He’s gone, he – he’s going to – he’s going to find Voldemort.’ He sat back in the grass and put his head in his hands. ‘God, I’m so tired.’

‘We’ll just have to deal with that later,’ Sherlock said, braver than he felt. ‘Besides, it’s only Wormtail. What can he do?’

‘I can’t breathe.’

‘What do we do now?’ Hermione called.

‘We need to get help,’ said Harry, pushing the hair out of his eyes.

But then came a yelping and whining in the distance.

‘Sirius,’ Harry muttered. He pelted off into the darkness.

‘Harry, wait!’ Hermione followed closely after him.

It was very quiet once they had gone. After a minute, it got very cold, and soon, Sherlock and John were both shivering horribly. ‘The Dementors must be back,’ he murmured. ‘They’re still after Sirius.’

John didn’t respond, his eyes were out of focus and, though he was still in the present, he had retreated from his fear.

Sherlock quickly looked around, taking in their predicament. There was John, stiff with fear and clearly dissociating. Castiel, a short distance away, was still tending to Dean’s injuries. Sherlock’s own injury prevented him from helping, and he very much doubted that Castiel could carry Dean all the way up to the castle on his own. Snape was still unconscious, floating with his toes brushing the ground. There was nothing else for it.

Sherlock raised his wand to the sky and said, ‘ _Periculum.’_ A red flare shot out of his wand and exploded in the air. He settled down to wait, wrapping his good arm around John to comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone. Thanks to rainingcatz, Holy Trash Can and theforestprincex for the comments.  
> Another short one guys, I hope that's ok. The next one should be up around Friday or Saturday so see you then :)


	18. Hermione's Secret

Hermione’s Secret

Snape awoke not long after Sherlock cast his flare. Sherlock pointed him in the direction of the lake, where Harry and Hermione had gone. He hurried away just as the castle doors burst open, and Professor McGonagall flew down the steps towards them.

‘I saw your flare. What happened here?’

Sherlock didn’t even know where to begin, but McGonagall didn’t press the issue, especially when she saw Dean’s wounds.

She conjured stretchers for Dean, John and Ron then, just as they were leaving, Snape returned with three floating stretchers of his own, occupied by Harry, Hermione, and a gagged and bound Sirius.

‘Goodness, Severus, is that Sirius Black?’ McGonagall gasped.

‘Indeed it is, Minerva, but perhaps it would be wise to save explanations for the Minister. In any case, Winchester needs immediate attention.’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Snape, but the throbbing in his shoulder convinced him to hold his tongue at least until it had been healed.

Madam Pomfrey was not impressed when they arrived. She saw to Dean first, but there was not much she could do besides give him a potion to replenish his blood. Castiel took charge of this, gently lifting Dean’s head and dripping the potion into his mouth. His skin was grey all over, but a tinge of red returned to his lips after a few drops of the potion.

Madam Pomfrey then removed the curse that Pettigrew had put on Ron, then healed Sherlock’s shoulder, though Ron remained unconscious.

Sirius was taken away, presumably somewhere he couldn’t escape. Then Mycroft arrived.

‘Sirius Black is innocent,’ Sherlock said before he could ask, ‘but we have no way of proving it.’

Mycroft nodded. ‘Ah, yes. Peter Pettigrew faked his death, did he?’

‘Yes. He and Sirius are Animagi.’

‘Animagi, of course. Well, I’ve just come from Dumbledore’s office, where Snape is regaling them both with tales of how Black Confuded the lot of you. Unfortunately, that means that there is almost no chance of them believing you.’

‘But you believe us?’

‘Yes. I have always suspected something more to this case. There was not a sufficient investigation at the time, judging by the notes.’

‘What about John? He’s a Seer.’

‘An untested and unproven Seer. You could try.’

‘That’s all we can do.’

Mycroft nodded again. ‘I can’t help you. I came dangerously close to losing my position trying to free the Hippogriff. Sirius Black is too much. If you’d given me a few more years, I might have been able to do something.’

‘I understand.’

With that, Mycroft left again.

John, meanwhile, had begun to pull himself out of his paralysis with the help of a calming potion from Madam Pomfrey. He sat up slowly.

Dumbledore the entered the ward and sat on the chair next to John, leaving Sherlock to hover awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

‘John,’ said Dumbledore.

‘Sir,’ he replied.

‘You have been given quite the responsibility, I hear.’

John snorted softly. ‘Whoever gave it can take it back.’

‘Understandable, of course.’ Dumbledore said nothing for a moment. ‘Did you see him? Voldemort?’

John cringed. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Don’t make me do it again, it’s too horrible.’

‘It’s all right, John, that’s all I need to know,’ Dumbledore said gently. ‘Don’t be afraid. Now that we have some warning, we’ll be better prepared,’ His eyes flicked up to Sherlock. ‘You’re always welcome in my office, should you need assistance interpreting your visions, though I suspect that Sherlock will be more than capable.’

‘Professor?’ said John.

‘Yes?’

‘They’re not going to believe me, are they?’

‘I suspect not.’

‘Then- then I’d rather not tell the Minister about my – this, if you don’t mind.’

‘But, John-‘ Sherlock began.

‘It’s my decision, Sherlock,’ John said firmly. ‘If he’s not going to believe me, I’d rather not waste my time trying to convince him. At least until after I learn how to use it properly.’

‘A wise decision,’ said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling. He rose from his seat. ‘I shall return later to speak to Harry and Hermione. I’ve already heard Professor Snape’s version of events, so it’ll be quite, shall we say, illuminating to hear what they say.’

He swept out of the room and Sherlock took his seat.

‘You look exhausted,’ Sherlock said sympathetically.

‘I am. Something’s stopping me sleeping though.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know. Something about Hermione, I think. I suppose we’ll find out when she wakes up.’

Sherlock nodded slowly. ‘Here, this may help.’ He pulled a spare mug out from the drawer in the bedside table. Muttering under his breath, hot chocolate streamed from the end of his wand into the mug, which he handed to John.

It tasted awful, but Sherlock seemed so proud of it, so John sipped at it while they waited. ‘How’s he doing, Cas?’ John called over when Castiel went to wash the blood off his hands.

‘He’ll live,’ Cas said grimly.

Madam Pomfrey then returned from where she’d been treating Sirius and gave them all large chunks of chocolate, then continued trying to revive Ron.

Harry and Hermione woke up around half an hour later, and the peace of the hospital wing was broken by the entrance of Snape and Fudge. John had only just managed to ask them both not to say anything about his powers when they came bursting in.

‘Ah, Harry, you’re awake. Excellent,’ said Fudge. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that we have apprehended Sirius Black, and the Dementors will be administering the kiss any moment now.’

‘WHAT?’ Harry shouted, jumping out of bed. ‘You can’t! He’s innocent!’

‘Minister, please listen,’ Hermione said, joining Harry. ‘I saw him, too. It was Ron’s rat, he’s an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and-‘

‘You see, Minister?’ said Snape. ‘Confunded, both of them… Black’s done a very good job on them…’

‘WE’RE NOT CONFUNDED!’ Harry roared.

‘Minister, Professor, _please,_ these children need care,’ Madam Pomfrey said angrily. ‘Please, leave-‘

The door opened again and Dumbledore came in.

‘For heaven’s sake!’ Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. ‘Is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist-‘

‘My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with the students, alone,’ Dumbledore said calmly. ‘Cornelius, Severus, Poppy, please leave us.’

‘Headmaster!’ spluttered Madam Pomfrey. ‘They need treatment, they need rest-‘

‘This cannot wait,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I must insist.’

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and strode away to her office.

‘I’d best go meet the Dementors,’ said Fudge, checking his pocket watch. ‘Come, Severus.’

Snape didn’t move, glaring at Dumbledore.

‘Severus,’ Fudge prompted, uncertain.

Snape then left with Fudge, and Dumbledore waited until the door snapped shut to say anything.

Harry and Hermione immediately launched into explanations, but Dumbledore held up a hand. ‘I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister for Magic…’

‘I think we need Hermione’s Time-Turner,’ said John suddenly. ‘That’s what it’s called, right?’

They all looked at him in surprise, Dumbledore smiling slightly. ‘Correct, John,’ he said.

‘Hermione’s what?’ said Harry, but Dumbledore continued on.

‘Now, pay attention. Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick’s office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, _you must not be seen._ Miss Granger, you know the law, you know what’s at stake… _you-must-not-be-seen.’_ Dumbledore went back to the door. ‘I’m going to lock the door. It’s currently five minutes to midnight. Three turns should do it.’ He closed the door behind him.

Hermione fiddled with the front of her robes.

‘How did you know?’ Sherlock asked John.

‘You told me,’ he said, suddenly embarrassed. ‘I heard you in my head. It wasn’t words, exactly. More like an image or- or an impression?’

‘You did? Really?’

‘Yeah,’ said John, allowing himself a small smile. ‘You have some leaves in your hair.’ John reached out and brushed them away, fingertips tingling at the contact with Sherlock’s soft curls.

Hermione then threw a fine gold chain around Harry’s neck and spun the hourglass shaped charm attached to it. The two of them then vanished, leaving the ward in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone :) Thanks to rainingcatz and Holy Trash Can for the comments.   
> We're almost there guys! The next chapter is the last one, so see you then.


	19. Owl Post Again

Owl Post Again

‘Do you think we should have gone with them?’ John asked nervously.

‘No. Only the two of them would have fit inside the chain anyway. I have complete faith in Hermione.’

‘And Harry.’

‘Of course.’

John chuckled at him and the door reopened.

Harry and Hermione ran back to their beds, breathless with triumph.

‘Did you do it?’ John asked eagerly.

‘Yes!’ Hermione gasped. ‘We saved Sirius and Buckbeak!’

Madam Pomfrey opened her office door. ‘Did I hear the Headmaster leaving?’

They nodded and she got back to bustling around the ward.

John grinned at Hermione and at last felt content enough to sleep. He got under the covers and was just drifting off when the hospital doors burst open once again.

Fudge, Snape and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry, but Snape was beside himself.

‘OUT WITH IT, POTTER!’ he bellowed. ‘WHAT DID YOU DO?’

‘Professor Snape!’ Madam Pomfrey shouted. ‘Control yourself!’

‘See here, Snape, be reasonable,’ said Fudge. ‘This door’s been locked we just saw-‘

‘THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!’ Snape howled.

‘Calm down, man!’ Fudge barked. ‘You’re talking nonsense!’

‘YOU DON’T KNOW POTTER! HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT-‘

‘That will do, Severus,’ Dumbledore said quietly. ‘Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?’

‘Of course not!’ said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. ‘I’ve been with them ever since you left!’

‘There you have it, Severus,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Unless you are suggesting that Harry is able to be in two places at once, I’m afraid I don’t see any point in troubling them further.’

Snape ground his teeth, then whirled around and stormed out of the ward.

‘Fellow seems quite unhinged,’ said Fudge. ‘I’d watch out for him, if I were you, Dumbledore.’

‘Oh, he’s not unhinged. He’s just suffered a severe disappointment.’

‘He’s not the only one!’ puffed Fudge. ‘I’d better go and notify the Ministry…’

‘And the Dementors?’ said Dumbledore. ‘I trust they’ll be removed from the grounds?’

‘Oh, yes, they’ll have to go. Never dreamed they’d attempt the kiss on an innocent boy. Perhaps we should think about dragons at the school entrance…’

‘Hagrid would like that.’

Dumbledore and Fudge left, and at last there was peace.

John settled back down and fell asleep, Sherlock’s head resting on the bed beside him and their fingers curled together.

 

Dean was conscious by the next morning, cold, dehydrated and very, very hungry. He opened his eyes and tried to move, but the slashes across his back awoke with a deep, hot pain. A low moan escaped his lips and Cas appeared, looking very tired.

‘You’re awake,’ he said, relieved.

‘’Course I am,’ Dean whispered, voice cracking. ‘You got any water?’

Cas picked up the glass on the bedside table and lifted Dean’s head to help him drink.

The cool water cleared Dean’s head. ‘Is everyone okay?’ he asked.

‘Wormtail escaped,’ Cas told him. ‘But so did Sirius and Buckbeak.’

‘Buckbeak? How?’

‘Hermione has a Time-Turner, so they used that to rescue him.’

‘Really? That’s awesome.’

Cas smiled, then helped Dean drink a potion. ‘This should help with the pain, and you should stick to liquids, at least for the morning.’

‘Aw man,’ Dean said, disappointed. He had just been considering what to have for breakfast. ‘Can you help me sit up?’

‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’

‘Sure it is. You just gave me the pain medicine. No better time than now, right? Please?’

‘Fine. Give me a minute,’ Cas relented. He walked away, but after a minute he returned to Dean’s bed holding a large stack of fluffy pillows. He arranged them on the bed, then helped Dean into a sitting position. Despite the effects of the numbing potion, it was still very painful. By the time he settled back against the pillows, he was starting to feel quite light-headed.

He took another sip of water, then looked around the ward. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sat cheerfully on their beds, watching him. John was still asleep, holding Sherlock’s hand too tightly for Sherlock to move, though he didn’t seem to mind.

‘How are you feeling?’ Hermione asked.

‘I’ve been better,’ said Dean. ‘I’ll be fine, though. What about you guys?’

Hermione waved a hand. ‘We’re all fine. You had the worst of it.’

‘And John?’

‘Completely fine. Just tired.’

‘Well that’s good.’

Madam Pomfrey then came over with a goblet of deep red potion. ‘Here you are, Winchester.’

He took it without question.

‘I hope you realise how lucky you are,’ she said briskly. ‘If it hadn’t been for Castiel’s quick thinking, you likely would not have survived.’

‘Is that right?’ said Dean, eyebrows raised. Cas avoided his eyes.

‘We were working with Dittany yesterday, so he must have had some with him. Where he got the silver from, though, I don’t know.’ She took the empty goblet. ‘His dressings will need changing soon,’ she said to Cas as she walked away.

‘Where _did_ you get the silver?’ Dean asked.

Cas’s hand momentarily went to his neck.

‘Your necklace? Really?’

Cas nodded.

‘Wow. Thank you,’ Dean said sincerely.

‘It’s nothing. A choice between a necklace and your life is not a difficult one.’

‘Still, I appreciate it.’

 

John woke up soon after Madam Pomfrey had discharged everyone but Dean, Sherlock and himself. He still felt groggy, and was dismayed to find that he couldn’t remember any of the visions he’d had the day before.

‘Castiel said that it must have been a traumatic vision that triggered your subsequent ones,’ Sherlock told him, rubbing the hand that John had finally let go of. ‘Perhaps your mind is trying to protect you from them.’

‘It’ll have to not do that in the future, then. Can’t go around not remembering any of them.’

‘I’m sure now that you know what’s happening, it’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah. Can we go?’ he asked Madam Pomfrey as she passed.

‘Certainly,’ she said.

John said goodbye to Dean on his way out.

‘Can I have some food yet?’ he asked around lunchtime.

Madam Pomfrey eyed him and took his temperature. ‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘Take it slowly though.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I’ll get something,’ said Cas.

He tried his best to get food that Dean would like, and ended up with a plate of sandwiches and a slice of apple pie. He let Dean eat one of the sandwiches, then brought over a bowl, two potions and some cotton balls.

‘I need to change your dressings and clean your wounds.’

‘Okay.’

‘If you can I need you to move forwards so I can sit on the bed behind you.’

‘Sounds doable.’ Dean slid forward and winced, but Cas supported him by his shoulders so he wouldn’t have to exert himself too much.

‘Take this, it’s for the pain,’ said Cas, handing him one of the two potions.

Dean drained the bottle without complaint, then Cas carefully eased off Dean’s pajama shirt.

The bandages underneath were almost very red, but Cas was pleased to find that they were dry. He removed those too and saw that the bleeding had stopped completely. The scratches were still quite deep and ragged, but where the skin had begun to knit back together, it had a silvery sheen.

Cas was soaking them in the potion with gentle dabs, when the door to the ward opened. They looked up to see Professor Lupin slipping inside.

‘I wanted to come and see you before I left,’ he said, sitting on the chair beside the bed.

‘You’re leaving?’ said Dean, shocked.

‘I resigned this morning.’

‘What? Why? Aah.’ Lupin winced as Dean jostled his wounds.

‘Dean, please,’ Cas chastised.

‘Professor Snape – er – _let slip_ that I’m a werewolf at breakfast this morning. Parent won’t want someone like me teaching their children.’

‘That jerk!’ Dean exclaimed.

‘ _Dean_ , you’re getting the potion everywhere, this is really hard to make.’

‘Sorry, sorry.’

‘I would have thought that you, of all people, would not want me around,’ Lupin said sadly.

‘Of course not! This was an accident, you couldn’t help it.’

‘An accident it may have been, but your life will be very different now because of my carelessness.’

‘Not that different. I might want more meat now, but I’m already a pretty big fan of meat, so…’

Lupin looked confused, then sighed. ‘Perhaps you’re not taking it in. Understandable of course. Dean, I- I turned you, you’re a werewolf now.’

Then it was Dean’s turn to look confused. ‘No, I’m not. It’s only a scratch.’

‘Well yes, that’s how you’re infected.’

‘No it isn’t. Lycanthropy is transmitted through saliva, so it has to be a bite,’ Dean told him. ‘You didn’t know that?’

‘I- no.’

‘Yeah, my dad got scratched once and he as this gnarly scar on his shoulder, but he was fine. I bet my scar’ll be way cooler though.’

Lupin chuckled, looking thoroughly relieved. ‘I’ll admit, that makes me feel a little better. I am very sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it. You know, I might grow a beard now. I bet I’d look pretty distinguished with a beard,’ Dean joked.

‘It was still very reckless of you to come after me like that. I very easily could have bitten you, and no one knows if wolfsbane even works after transformation.’

Dean shrugged. ‘I had to try.’ At that moment, the numbing potion that Cas had given him kicked in. ‘Whoa, Cas, what was in that?’ he said, swaying.

Cas frowned. ‘I must have made it too strong,’ said Cas, holding Dean in place more firmly.

‘Hey, Professor?’ Dean slurred, eyes going out of focus. ‘I have a – a question.’

‘Yes, Dean?’

‘What would happen if you put a werewolf on the moon?’

‘I- I have no idea,’ Lupin said, startled.

‘He would die, since there’s no atmosphere on the moon,’ said Cas without looking up.

Dean scoffed at him. ‘Well obviously I would put him in a space suit first, Cas. Come on, what kinda monster do you think I am?’

‘Perhaps I’ll have to try it someday,’ Lupin smiled.

‘Do you really have to go?’ asked Cas. ‘You’re an excellent teacher.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Lupin said. ‘But there’s nothing else to do.’

Cas sighed. ‘Then I wish you good luck in the future.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Lupin, rising from his seat. ‘You were both a pleasure to teach, and I hope we meet again.’

He left the hospital wing with a smile on his face.

Cas placed the bowl he was using on the bedside table and wrapped Dean’s entire torso in bandages.

‘It feels a lot better already,’ said Dean, carefully rolling his shoulders.

‘That’s good,’ said Cas.

‘I feel really dizzy, though, is that supposed to happen?’

Before Cas could answer, Dean fell asleep, pinning Cas to the bed.

‘Damn,’ Cas sighed as Dean snored. ‘Definitely too strong.’

 

Dean was in the hospital wing for the next three days, but as soon as he was up and walking, Madam Pomfrey deemed him able to join the others out in the sunshine.

Their exam results came in and they’d all passed everything. Hermione had also decided to take John’s advice and dropped Muggle Studies. ‘I don’t want another year like this one. The Time-Turner was driving me mad,’ she said one day when they were sitting by the lake. ‘Without Muggle Studies and Divination I’ll be able to have a normal timetable again, so I handed in the Time-Turner.’

‘Good for you, Hermione,’ John smiled.

Dean grinned at her. ‘You’re smart, but you gotta know your limits.’

Everyone had donned their summer uniforms for the sweltering heat – shorts, a white polo shirt with the school logo, and their house ties - but Dean noticed that Cas was still fully-robed except for his cloak.

‘Aren’t you hot?’ Dean asked curiously.

Cas shrugged and lay down in the grass, enjoying the sunshine.

 

All too soon, they were hauling their trunks onto the Hogwarts Express and taking their seats.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,’ Ron grumbled, still upset about the Time-Turner. ‘We’re supposed to be your _friends.’_

 _‘_ I promised I wouldn’t tell _anyone_ ,’ Hermione replied.

‘Give her a break, man,’ said Dean, cringing as he sat down. His cuts were still sensitive, and protested against too much movement.

‘Anyway, Harry, you have to come and stay with us. I’ll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I’ll call you. I know how to use the fellytone now-‘

‘ _Telephone,_ Ron,’ said Hermione. ‘Honestly, _you_ should take Muggle Studies next year.’

Ron ignored her. ‘It’s the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay and we’ll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work.’

‘Oh yeah, the World Cup!’ said Dean. ‘My dad can get tickets too, Cas, do you want to come?’

Cas, who had been staring out the window, looked at him surprise. ‘You want me to come?’

‘Absolutely! You can meet my brother.’

‘That sounds nice.’

‘Yeah, I’ll send you an owl, or something.’

‘I suppose we could come too,’ said Sherlock. ‘Mycroft can get us tickets.’

‘Okay, awesome, meet up at the World Cup, Dean grinned.

They had lunch from the trolley witch, and had just settled down to play Exploding Snap, when Hermione suddenly squinted out of the window. ‘What’s that?’ she said.

Harry looked out, then pulled open the window, stretching his arm out. When he brought it back in, he opened his fist and out popped a very tiny, fluffy grey owl. It dropped the letter it was carrying and began zooming around the compartment, apparently very pleased with itself for accomplishing its task. Hedwig and Grace clicked their beaks indignantly. Crookshanks sat up in his seat, following the owl with his great yellow eyes. Ron, seeing this, snatched it out of harm’s way.

Harry opened it. ‘It’s from Sirius!’ he said, and read it aloud.

 

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don’t know whether they’re used to owl post._

_Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won’t tell you where in case this letter falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubts about this owl’s reliability, but he was all I could find, and he seemed eager for the job._

_I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they have no hope of finding me here. I am planning on allowing some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security measures on the castle will be lifted._

_There was something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt-_

_‘_ Ha!’ Hermione said triumphantly. ‘I _told_ you it was him!’

‘Yes, but he hadn’t jinxed it, had he?’ said Ron.

 

_Crookshanks took the order to the owl office for me. I used your name but told them to take the money from my vault. Please consider it thirteen birthdays worth of presents from your godfather._

_I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._

_If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me._

_I’ll see you again soon._

_Sirius._

Inside the envelope was another piece of parchment.

_I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter’s godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade at the weekends._

‘Excellent!’ said Dean. ‘Dude, it’ll be way easier to pick up chicks now you don’t have to be invisible.’

‘Great, thanks, Dean,’ said Harry, bemused. ‘Hold on, there’s a PS…’

_I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it’s my fault he no longer has a rat._

Ron’s eyes widened. The owl was still hooting excitedly.

‘Keep him?’ Ron said excitedly. He looked closely at the owl, then, to their great surprise, he grabbed the owl and held him out for Crookshanks to sniff. ‘What d’you reckon?’ he asked the cat. ‘Definitely an owl?’

Crookshanks purred.

‘That’s good enough for me,’ Ron said happily. ‘He’s mine.’

 

At last, they arrived at King’s Cross station and said their goodbyes.

‘John, wait,’ said Sherlock, grabbing John’s arm. ‘You know what to do if – if you need me, right?’

‘Im sure I’ll work it out,’ John smiled. ‘Let me know about the World Cup, I’d love to come.’

‘Okay.’

‘Bye, Sherlock. See you soon.’

Sherlock watched John disappear into the crowd, before allowing Mycroft to lead them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone and thanks to Holy Trash Can, hhhelcat and everyone else that commented and left kudos throughout this story! I love you all and I hope you're enjoying the series so far.
> 
> I'm taking a break now and hopefully will be back around the end of July/ beginning of August.
> 
> As with before, I will post a preview chapter here, so everyone following this story will be notified when Goblet of Fire is posted.
> 
> Thanks again, and see you all soon!


	20. Goblet of Fire Preview

Goblet of Fire Preview

John watched as Sherlock moved among the bookshelves, fingers lightly brushing the spines as he went, occasionally taking one and putting it in a pile next to John. At first, John thought he was pulling them out at random, but once he looked at some of them, he realised that they were all either one of a kind, or first editions.

‘Our family are renowned for collecting knowledge,’ Sherlock explained. ‘A pastime I quite enjoy, though rarely get the time for.’

‘And you can tell what kind of book you’re looking for just by touching them?’

‘Usually the texture of the cover, the inlay used for the title and the amount of gathered dust tells me all I need to know.’

‘Really? Wow, that’s amazing.’

Sherlock gave a small smile. ‘You think so?’

‘Definitely. Let’s keep looking.’

They eventually ended up upstairs, where people rarely ventured. John sat at a table while Sherlock continued to search.

He pulled a book out and flipped it open to look at the pages. Just as he did, light shone through one of the windows and illuminated him. Motes of dust drifted around his soft curls. Sunlight bounced off his high cheekbones and his lips pressed together in concentration.

John fidgeted in his seat, his face suddenly hot and itchy.

Sherlock looked up at him. ‘What are you staring at?’ he frowned.

‘Hmm?’

‘I said, what are you staring at?’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Goblet of Fire is up and ready to read! Thanks to hhhelcat and VashtaNerada for the comments. See you all next time.


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